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THE 

WORKS 

O    F 

O    S    S    I    A    N, 

THE 

S   O   N     of    F  I   N   G   A   L, 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

Tranflated  from  the  Galic  Language 

By  JAMES  MACPHERSON. 

VOL.  I.    containing, 
FIN  GAL,  an  Ancient  EPIC  POEM, 

INSIXBOOKSJ 
AND 

SEVERAL  OTHER  POEMS. 

•    Foriia  faSlu  patrum.  Virg.  •     - 

THE    THIRD    EDITION. 


LONDON: 

printed  for    T.  B  E  c  k  E  t   and  P.  A.  D  e  h  o  N  d  t, 

at  Tully's  Head,  near  Sarry  Street,  in  the  Strand. 

^IDCCl-XV. 


::  l^b^O  :'     Lately  puhlijhed,  ^> 

Price  Two  Shillings, 

THE  SECOND  EDITION,       ; 
A 
CRITICAL 

DISSERTATION        ,. 

O  N    T  H  1 

POEMS    of    O  S  S  IAN, 

THE  •  ^l^^ 

■*-^s  o-  N  of  F  I  N  G  A  m'^^n- 

■  II  '  !,■-■    I       I    II      II      I  I  I  ,  I         I        ■ 

By  HUGH   BLAIR,  D.  D. 

One  of  the  Minifters  of  the  iJigh  Church,  and  Profeffbr 
of  -Rhetorick  and  Belles-Lettres,  in  ttie  Univcrfity 

.:«.M^.,ft.s..i;.»  i-'.j '   ^Edinburgh.  ^..* 

Hjyi    ^j^y..,.  .u...  I  •     ■  -  '  '  ^J 

I  ■     . '  To  which  is  added. 

An  Appewdix,  containing  a  variety  of  undoubted 
.  -Tji^  t  I4»^n  lis  eftjblilhing  their  A  uthenticity. 


3ni'^ 


T  O    T  H  E 


EARL   of    BUTE,     ^' 

j  Knight  of  the  moft  Noble  Order  of      ' ' 
^^  the  Garter,  &c.  &c. 


My  Lord, 


^^ 


IPrefume  to  prefent  to  your  lordfhip  a 
pleat  edition  of  the   Works  of  O 


com- 
pleat  edition  of  the   Works  of  Oflian. 

"•^  They  have  already  been  honored  with  your 
approbation,  and  have  been  received  with 

^  applaufe  by  men  of  tafte  throughout  Eu- 
rope. This  addrefs  therefore  is  not  an  en- 
deavor to  fecure  the  continuance  of  the  pubr 
lie  favor  through  the  fan6lion  of  your  name. 
Little  folicitous  myfelf  about  the  reputation 
of  an  author,  I  pv.rmit,  with  no  concern,  the 
Old  Bard  to  take  his  chance  with  the  world  : 
It  proceeds,  my  Lord,  from  another  caufe ; 
the  ambition  of  being  hereafter  known  to 
have  met  with  your  favor  and  protection  in 
the  execution  of  this  work  j  an  honor  which 
will  be  envied  me,  perhaps,  more  fome  time 

hence 


'»*  ? 


DEDICATION. 

hence  than  at  prefent.  I  throw  no  reflexions 
on  this  age,  but  there  is  a  great  debt  of  fame 
owing  to  the  Earl  of  Bute,  which  here- 
after will  be  amply  paid  :  there  is  alfo  fome 
fiiare  of  reputation  with-held  from  Oflian, 
which  lefs  prejudiced  times  may  beftow. 
This  fimilarity  between  the  Statefman  and 
the  Poet,  gives  propriety  to  this  dedication ; 
though  your  Lord fliip's  avowed  patronage  of 
literature  requires  no  adventitious  aid  ta  di- 
re<5l  to  you  the  addrefles  of  authors.  It  is 
with  pleafurc  I  embrace  this  opportunity  of 
teftifying  in  public  with  what  perfect  attach* 
ment, 

I  am, 

my  Lord, 

your  Lordfliip's  moft  humble, 
moft  obliged, 
and  moft  obedient  fervant, 


JAMES    MACPHERSON, 


A 

DISSERTATION 

.^;   .         _^,  -'       ■•l'-*'?vt:; 

CONCERNINGTHE 

ANTIQUITY,  &c.  of  the  POEMS 

O    F 

OSSIAN  the  Son  of  FINGAL. 

INQJJIRlES  into  the  antiquities  of  nations 
afford  more  pleafure  than  any  real  advantage 
to  mankind.  The  ingenious  may  form  fyftems 
of  hiftory  on  probabilities  and  a  few  fa6^s ;  but 
at  a  great  dlftance  of  time,  their  accounts  muft 
be  vague  and  uncertain.  The  infancy  of  ftates 
and  kingdoms  is  as  deftitute  of  great  events,  as  of 
the  means  of  tranfmitting  them  to  pofterlty. 
The  arts  of  pollllied  life,  by  which  alone  fa6ls 
can  be  preferved  with  certainty,  are  the  produc- 
tion of  a  well-formed  community.  It  Is  then  hif- 
torlans  begin  to  write,  and  public  tranfadions  to 
■  be  worthy  remembrance.  The  adlons  of  former 
times  are  left  in  obfcurlty,  or  magnified  by  un- 
certain traditions.     Hence  it  Is  that  we  find  fo 

a  much 


ii       A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

much  of  the  marvellous  m  the  origin  of  every 
nation  ;  pofterity  being  always  ready  to  believe 
any  thing,  however  fabulous,  that  refle£ls  ho- 
nour on  their  anceftors.  The  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans were  remarkable  for  this  wcaknefs.  They 
fvvallowed  the  moft  abfurd  fables  concerning  the 
high  antiquities  of  their  rcfpe<^ive  nations. 
Good  liiftovlans,  however,  rofe  very  early 
amongftthem,  and  tranfmitted,  with  luftre,  their 
great  adions  to  pofterity.  It  is  to  them  that 
they  owe  that  unrivalled  fame  they  now  enjoy, 
while  the  great  adions  of  other  nations  are  in- 
volved in  fables,  or  loft  in  obfcurity.  The  Cel- 
tic nations  afford  a  ftriking  inftance  of  this  kind. 
They,  though  once  the  maftcrs  of  Europe  from 
the  mouth  of  the  river  Oby  *,  in  Ruffia,  to 
Cape  Finiften'e,  the  weftcrn  point  of  Gailicia  in 
Spain,  are  very  little  mentioned  in  hiftory. 
They  trufted  their  fame  to  tradition  and  the 
fongs  of  their  bards,  which,  by  the  viciffitudc 
of  human  affairs,  are  long  fince  loft.  Their  an- 
cient language  is  the  only  monument  that  re- 
mains of  them  i  and  the  traces  of  it  being  found 
in  places  fo  widely  diftant  from  each  other, 
ferves  only  to  Ihew  the  extent  of  their  ancient 
power,  but  throws  very  little  light  on  their 
hiftory. 

*  Plin.  1.  6. 

Op 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,     ill 

Of  all  the  Celtic  nations,  that  which  poiTelTed 
old  Gaul  is  the  moft  renowned ;  not  perhaps  on 
account  of  worth  fuperior  to  the  reft,  but  for 
their  wars' with  a  people  who  had  hiftorians  to 
tranfmit  the  fame  of  their  enemies,  as  well  as 
their  own,  to  pofterity.  Britain  was  firft  peopled 
by  them,  according  to  the  teftimony  of  the  bcft 
authors  *  ;  its  fituation  in  refpe^  to  Gaul  makes 
the  opinion  probable ;  but  what  puts  it  beyond 
all  difpute,  is  that  the  fame  cuftoms  and  lan- 
guage prevailed  among  the  inhabitants  of  both  in 
the  days  of  Julius  Caefar  •f. 

The  colony  from  Gaul  pofTelTed  thcmfelves, 
at  firft,  of  that  part  of  Britain  which  was  next 
to  their  own  country  ;  and  fprcading  north- 
ward, by  degrees,  as  they  increafed  in  numbers, 
peopled  the  whole  ifland.  Some  adventurers 
paffing  over  from  thofe  parts  of  Britain  that  are 
within  fight  of  Ireland,  were  the  founders  of  the 
IrilTi  nation:  which  is  a  more  probable  ftory 
than  the  idle  fables  of  Milefian  and  Gallician 
colonies.  Diodorus  Siculus  ^  mentions  it  as  a 
thing  well  known  in  his  time,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Ireland  were  originally  Britons;  and  his 
teftimony  is  unqueftionable,  when  we  confider 

*  Caef.  1.  5.  Tac.  Agrlc.  I.  1.  c.  2.  f  Czfar, 

Pomp.  Mel.  Tacitus.  %  ^^^-  Sic  1.  5. 

a  2  that, 


iv       A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

that,  for  many  ages,  the  language  and  cuftoms 
of  both  nations  were  the  fame. 

Tacitus  was  of  opinion  that  the  ancient 
Caledonians  were  of  German  extract.  By  the 
language  and  cuftoms  which  always  prevailed  in 
the  North  of  Scotland,  and  which  are  undoubt- 
edly Celtic,  one  would  be  tempted  to  differ  In 
opinion  from  that  celebrated  writer.  The  Ger- 
mans, properly  fo  called,  were  not  the  fame  with 
the  ancient  Celtae.  The  manners  and  cuftoms  of 
the  two  nations  were  fimilarj  but  their  language 
different.  The  Germans  *  are  the  genuine  de- 
fcendants  of  the  ancient  Dax,  afterwards  well 
known  by  the  name  of  Daci,  and  paffed  origi- 
nally into  Europe  by  the  way  of  the  northern 
countries,  and  fettled  beyond  the  Danube,  to- 
wards the  vaft  regions  of  Traniilvania,  Walla- 
chia,  and  Moldavia  j  and  from  thence  advanced 
by  degrees  into  Germany.  The  Celtae  ■f,  it  is 
certain,  fent  many  colonies  into-  that  country, 
all  of  whom  retained  their  own  laws,  language, 
and  cuftoms ;  and  it  Is  of  them,  if  any  colonies 
came  from  Germany  into  Scotland,  that  the  an- 
cient Caledonians  were  defcended. 

But  whether  the  Caledonians  were  a  colony  of 
the  Celtic  Germans,  or  the  fame  with  the  Gauls 


Strabo,  1.  7.      t  C«f.  1.  6.  Liv.  1,  5.  Tac.  de  mor.  Germ. 

tha 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,     v 

that  firft  poiTeffed  themfelves  of  Britain,  is  2 
matter  of  no  moment  at  this  diftance  of  time. 
Whatever  their  origin  was,  we  find  them  very 
numerous  in  the  time  of  Julius  Agricola,  which 
is  a  prefumption  that  the/ were  long  before  fet- 
tled in  the  country.  The  form  of  their  govern- 
ment was  a  mixture  of  ariftocracy  and  monarchy, 
as  it  was  in  all  the  countries  where  the  Druids 
bore  the  chief  fway.  This  order  of  men 
feems  to  have  been  formed  on  the  fame  fyftem 
with  the  Da(f^yli  Idaei  and  Curetcs  of  the  an- 
cients. Their  pretended  intercourfe  with  hea- 
ven, their  magic  and  divination  were  the  fame. 
The  knowledge  of  the  Druids  in  natural  caufes, 
and  the  properties  of  certain  things,  the  fruit  of 
the  experiments  of  ages,  gained  them  a  mighty 
reputation  among  the  people.  The  cfteem  of 
the  populace  foon  increafed  into  a  veneration  for 
the  order;  which  a  cunning  and  ambitious  tribe 
of  men  took  care  to  improve,  to  fuch  a  degree, 
that  they,  in  a  manner,  ingrofled  the  manage- 
ment of  civil,  as  well  as  religious,  matters.  It 
is  generally  allowed  that  they  did  not  abufe  this 
extraordinary  power  ;  the  preferving  thtir  cha- 
rader  of  landity  was  fo  ciTcntial  to  their  in- 
fluence, that  they  never  broke  out  into  violence 
or  opprelhon.  Tiie  chiefs  were  allowed  'o  exe- 
cute the  laws,  but  the  leghlative  power  wa^  en  - 

a  3  tirely 


vi      A  DISSERTATION  concerning'  the 

tirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Druids  *.  It  was  "by 
tlieir  authority  that  the  tribes  were  united,  in 
times  of  the  greateft  danger,  under  one  head. 
This  temporary  king,  or  Vergobretus  •f,  was 
chofen  by  them,  and  generally  laid  down  his  of-^ 
fice  at  the  end  of  the  war.  Thefe  pricfts  en-^ 
joyed  long  this  extraordinary  privilege  among 
the  Celtic  nations  who  lay  beyond  the  pale  of 
the  Roman  empire.  It  was  in  the  beginning  of 
the  fecond  century  that  their  power  among  the 
Caledonians  begun  to  decline.  The  poems  that 
celebrate  Trathal  and  Cormac,  anceftors  to  Fin-r 
gal,  are  full  of  particulars  concerning  the  fall  of 
the  Druids,  which  account  for  the  total  filence 
concerning  their  religion  in  the  poems  that  are 
now  given  to  the  public. 

The  continual  wars  of  the  Caledonians  againft 
the  Romans  hindered  the  nobili^ty  from  initiating 
the.mfelves,  as  the  culjom  formerly  was,  into 
the  order  of  the  Druids.  The  precepts  of  their  re- 
ligion were  confined  to  a  few,  and  were  not 
much  attended  to  by  a  people  inured  to  war. 
The  Vergobretus,  or  chief  maglftrate,  was 
chofen  without  the  concurrence  of  the  hierarchy, 
or  continued  in  his  office  agalnft  their  will. 
Continual  power  ftrengthe^ied  his  intereft  among 

r 

*  Cxf,  I.  6,  f  Fer^ubrethj  th  man  fo judge. 

the 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,    vli 

the  tribes,  and  enabled  him  to  fend  down,  as 
hereditary  to  his  pofterity,  the  office  he  had 
only  received  himfcif  by  ele^lion. 
■■  On  occaiion  of  a  new  war  againft  the  King  of 
the  JVorld,  as  the  poems  emphatically  call  the 
Roman  emperor,  the  Druids,  to  vindicate  the 
honour  of  the  order,  began  to  refume  their  an- 
cient privilege  of  chufing  the  Vergobretus. 
Garmal,  the  fon  of  Tarno,  being  deputed  by 
them,  came  to  the  grandfather  of  the  celebrated 
Fingal,  who  was  then  Vergobretus,  and  com- 
manded him,  in  the  name  of  the  whole  order, 
to  lay  down  his  office.  Upon  his  refufal,  a  civil 
*  war  commenced,  which  foon  ended  in  almoft 
the  total  extin6\ion  of  the  religious  order  of  the 
Druids.  A  icw  that  remained,  retired  to  the 
dark  receffi^s  of  their  groves,  and  the  caves  they 
had  formerly  ufed  for  their  meditations.  It  is 
then  we  find  them  in  the  circle  of  Jl ones,  and  un- 
heeded by  the  world.  A  total  difregard  for  the 
order,  and  utter  abhorrence  of  the  Druidical 
rites  cnfued.  Under  this  cloud  of  public  hate, 
all  that  had  any  knowledge  of  the  religion  oF 
the  Druids  became  extin»fl,  and  the  nation  fell 
into  the  laft  degree  of  ignorance  of  their  rites 
and  ceremonies. 

It  is  no  matter  of  wonder  then,  that  Fingal 
and  his  fon  OfTian  make  fo  little,  if  any,  jncn- 

a  4  ti^ii 


viii      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

tion  of  the  Druids,  who  were  the  declared  cnc* 
mies  to  their  fucceffion  in  the  fupreme  ma- 
giftracy.  It  is  a  lingular  cafe,  it  muft  be  al- 
lowed, that  there  are  no  traces  of  religion  in  the 
poems  afcribed  to  Offian  ;  as  the  poetical  com- 
poll  Lions  of  other  nations  are  fo  clofely  conne6teA 
with  their  mythology.  It  is  hard  to  account  for 
it  to  thofe  who  are  not  made  acquainted  with 
the  manner  of  the  old  Scottifh  bards.  That  race 
of  men  carried  their  notions  of  martial  honour 
to  an  extravagant  pitch.  Any  aid  given  their 
heroes  in  battle,  was  thought  to  derogate  from 
their  fame^  and  the  bards  immediately  tranf- 
ferred  the  glory  of  the  ac^tion  to  him  who  had 
given  that  aid. 

Had  Offian  brought  down  gods,  as  often  as 
Homer  hath  done,  to  affift  his  heroes,  this  poem 
had  not  conlifted  of  eulogiums  on  his  friends,  but 
of  hymns  to  thefe  fuperior  beings.  To  this  day, 
thpfe  that  write  in  the  Galic  language  feldom 
mention  religion  in  their  profane  poetry ;  and 
when  they  profelTedly  write  of  religion,  they  ne- 
ver interlard  with  their  compolitions,  the  ac- 
tions of  their  heroes.  This  cuftom  alone,  even 
though  the  religion  of  the  Druids  had  not  been 
previoully  extinguillied,  may,  in  fome  mea- 
fure,  account  for  Offian's  lilence  concerning  the 
religion  pf  his  own  times. 

To 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems.    \x 

To  fay,  that  a  nation  is  void  of  all  religion, 
is  the  fame  thing  as  to  fay,  that  it  does  not  con- 
iift  of  people  endued  with  reafon.     The  tradi- 
tions of  their  fathers,  and  their  own  obfervations 
on  the  works  of  nature,  together  with  that  fu- 
perftition  which  is  inherent  in  the  human  frame, 
have,  in  all  ages,  raifed  in  the  minds  of  men 
fome  idea  of  a  fuperior  being.—- -Hence  it  is,  that 
in  the  darkeft  times,  and  amongft  the  moft  bar- 
barous nations,    the   very   populace   themfelves 
had  fome  faint  notion,  at  leaft,  of  a  divinity. 
It  would  be  doing  injuftice  to  Oiiian,  who,  upon 
no  occafion,  fhews  a  narrow  mind,  to   think, 
that  he  had  not  opened  liis  conceptions  to  that 
primitive  and   greateft   of  all   truths.     But  let 
Oflian's  religion  be  what  it  will,  it  is  certain  he 
had  no  knowledge  of  Chriftianity,  as  there  is  not 
the  leaft  allufion  to  it,  or  any  of  its  rites,  in  his 
poems  ;  which  abfolutely  fixes  him  to  an  sera 
prior  to  the  introduction  of  that  religion.     The 
perfecution   begun  by  DiockTian,  in  the  year 
303,  is  the  moft  probable  time  in  which  the  firft 
dawning  of  Chriftianity  in  the  north  of  Britain 
can  be  fixed. — The  humane  and  mild  charn(5>er 
of  Conftantius  Ghlorus,  who  commanded  tl  en  in 
Britain,  induced  the  perfecuted  Chriftians  t       \e 
refuge  under  him.     Some  of  them,  li-r.  a 

^eal  to  propagate  their  tenets,  or  throu    .      -r, 

-.. .  ;it 


31^      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

went  beyojid  the  pale  of  the  Roman  empire,  ^d 
fettled  among  the  Caledonians ;  who  were  the 
more  ready  to  hearken  to  their  do6^rines,  as  the 
religion  of  the  Druids  had  been  exploded  fo  long 
before. 

Thess  millionaries,  either  through  choice, 
or  to  give  more  weight  to  the  dodrine  they  ad- 
vanced, took  poiTeffion  of  the  cells  and  groves 
of  the  Druids  J  and  it  was  from  this  retired  life 
they  had  the  mme  of  Culdees  * ,  which  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country  fignified  Jequejlered  perfons. 
It  was  with  one  of  the  Culdees  that  Offian,  in  his 
extreme  old  age,  is  faid  to  have  difputed  con- 
cerning the  Chriftian  religion.  This  difpute  is 
jftill  extant,  and  is  couched  in  verfe,  according 
to  the  cuftom  of  the  times.  The  extreme  igno- 
rance on  the  part  of  Offian,  of  the  Chril^ian  te- 
nets, Ihews,  that  that  religion  had  only  been 
lately  introduced,  as  it  is  not  eafy  to  conceive, 
how  one  of  the  firft  rank  could  be  totally  unac- 
quainted with  a  religion  that  had  been  known 
for  any  time  in  the  country.  The  difpute  bears 
the  genuine  marks  of  antiquity.  The  obfoiete 
phrafes  and  expreffions  peculiar  to  the  times, 
prove  it  to  be  no  forgexy.  If  Offian  then  lived 
at  the  introdu(5\ion  of  Chriftianity,  as  by  all  ap^ 

•Culdicl*. 

pearance 


Antiquity,  ^g.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,     xi 

pearance  he  did,  his  epoch  will  be  the  latter  end 
of  the  third,  and  beginning  of  the  fourth  cen^ 
tury.  What  puts  this  point  beyond  difpute, 
is  the  allufion  in  his  poems  to  the  hiftory  of  tha 
times. 

.  The  exploits  of  Fingal  againft  Caracul*,  the; 
fon  of  the  King  of  the  World,  are  among  the  firft 
brave  a6lions  of  his  youth.  A  complete  poem, 
which  relates  to  this  fubje<5l,  is  printed  in  this 
colle^lion. 

In  the  year  2io  the  emperor  Severus,  after  re- 
turning froni  his  expeditions  againfl  the  Caledo- 
nians, at  York  fell  into  the  tedious  illnefs  of 
which  he  afterwards  died.  The  Caledonians  and 
Maiatac,  refuming  courage  from  his  indifpofi- 
tion,  took  arms  in  order  to  recover  the  poflef- 
fions  they  had  lofl.  The  enraged  emperor  com- 
manded his  army  to  march  into  their  country, 
and  to  deftroy  it  with  fire  and  fword.  His  or- 
ders were  but  ill  executed,  for  his  fon,  Cara- 
calla,  was  at  the  head  of  the  army,  and  his 
thoughts  were  entirely  taken  up  with  the  hopes 
of  his  fathc:ir's  dc^th,  and  with  fchemes  to 
fupplant  his  brother  Geta.— He  fcarcely  had  en- 
tered the    enemy's    country,    wjien   news   was 

*  Caxzc'h'Sil,  terrible  e)e.  Czrac-'hcalli,  terrt'Ble  look.  Carac- 
^hallamh,  a  fort  of  uf per  garment. 

brought 


xu      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

brought  him  that  Severus  was  dead.— A  fudden 
peace  is  patched  up  with  the  Caledonians,  and, 
as  it  appears  from  Dion  Caffius,  the  country 
they  had  loft  to  Severus  was  reftored  to  them. 

The  Caracul  of  Fingal  is  no  other  than  Cara- 
calla,  who,  as  the  fon  of  Severus,  the  Emperor 
of  Rome,  whofe  dominions  were  extended  al- 
moft  over  the  known  world,  was  not  without 
reafon  called  in  the  poems  of  Offian,  the  Son  of 
the  King  of  the  World.  The  fpace  of  time  be- 
tween 211,  the  year  Severus  died,  and  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fourth  century,  is  not  fo  great, 
but  Offian  the  fon  of  Fingal,  might  have  feen 
the  Chriftians  whom  the  perfecution  under  Dio- 
cleiian  had  driven  beyond  the  pale  of  the  Roman 
empire. 

OssiAN,  in  one  of  his  many  lamentations  on 
the  death  of  his  beloved  fon  Ofcar,  mentions 
among  his  great  anions,  a  battle  which  he  fought 
againft  Caros,  king  of  ihips,  on  the  banks  of 
the  winding  Carun*.  It  is  more  than  proba- 
ble, that  the  Caros  mentioned  here,  is  the  fame 
with  the  noted  ufurper  Caraufius,  who  affumed 
the  purple  in  the  year  287,  and  feizing  on  Bri- 
tain, defeated  the  emperor  Maximian  Herculius, 
in  feveral  naval  engagements,  which  gives  pro  • 

•  Car-avon,  Winding  river, 

priety 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,  xiii 
priety  to  his  being  called  in  Oflian's  poems,  the 
King  of  Ships.  The  winding  Carun  is  that  fmall 
river  retaining  ftill  the  name  of  Carron,  and 
runs  in  the  neighbourhood  of  AgricoIa*s  wall, 
which  Carauiius  repaired  to  obftru<5l  the  incur- 
iions  of  the  Caledonians.  Several  other  pafTages 
in  the  poems  allude  to  the  wars  pf  the  Romans ; 
but  the  two  juft  mentioned  clearly  fix  the  epoch 
of  Fingal  to  the  third  century ;  and  this  account 
agrees  exa(5lly  with  the  Irifh  hiftories,  which 
place  the  death  of  Fingal,  the  fon  of  Comhal,  in 
the  year  283,  and  that  of  Ofcar  and  their  own 
celebrated  Cairbre,  in  the  year  296. 

Some  people  may  imagine,  that  the  allufions 
to  the  Roman  hiftory  might  have  been  induftri- 
oully  inferted  into  the  poems,  to  give  them  the 
appearance  of  antiquity.  This  fraud  muft  then 
have  been  committed  at  leaft  three  ages  ago,  as 
the  palTages  in  which  the  allufions  are  made,  are 
alluded  to  often  in  the  compofitions  of  thofe 
times. 

Every  one  knows  what  a  cloud  of  ignorance 
and  barbarifm  overfpread  the  north  of  Europe 
three  hundred  years  ago.  The  minds  of  men, 
addided  to  fuperftition,  contradcd  a  narrownefs 
that  deftroyed  genius,  Accordingly  we  find  the 
compofitions  of  thofe  times  trivial  and  puerile  to 
the  laft  degree.  But  let  it  be  allowed,  that, 
4  amidfl 


Hhr     A  DlSSERTATfON  concerning  the 

amldft  ail  the  iiiltoA^ard  circumftances  of  ^li^ 
igc,  a  genius  might  arife,  it  i^  not  eafy  -to  3^- 
torminie  what  cbulcl  inBuce  Hitti  to  giv6  the  h'd- 
Hbnr  of  his  compbfitions  to  an  age  fo  rendotc. 
We  find  no  fa6l  that  he  has  advanced,  to  favour 
any  defigns  which  could  be  entertained  by  any 
man  who  lived  in  the  fifteenth  century.  Bat 
iTiould  we  fuppofe  a  poet,  through  humour,  of 
for  reafons  which  cannot  be  feen  at  this  diflance; 
of  time,  would  afcribe  his  dwii  compofitions  to 
Offian,  it  is  next  to  imp'ollible,  that  he  could 
impofe  upon  his  countrymen,  w^hen  all  of  thifiii 
were  fo  well  acquainted  with  the  traditlohi! 
poems  of  their  anceflors. 

The  llrongefl  obje(flion  to  the  authenticity  6i 
the  poems  now  given  to  the  public  under  thd 
name  of  Offian,  is  the  improbability  of  their  be- 
ing handed  down  by  tradition  t'nrough  fo  many 
centuries.  Ages  of  barbarifm  fome  w-ill  fay^ 
could  not  produce  poems  abounding  with  the 
difinterefled  and  generous  fentiments  fo  confpi- 
cuous  in  the  compofitions  of  Offian  j  and  could 
thefe  ages  produce  them,  it  is  impoffible  but  they 
muft  be  loll,  or  altogether  corrupted  in  a  long 
fucceffion  of  barbarous  generations. 

These  obje6^1ons  naturally  fuggeft  themfeives 
to  men  unacquainted  with  the  ancient  flate  of 
the  northern  parts  of  Britain.     The  bards,  who 

were 


Antiquity,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,     xv 

were  an  inferior  order  of  the  Druids,  did  not 
ihare  their  bad  fortune.  They  were  fpared  by 
the  viftorious  king,  as  it  was  through  their 
means  only  he  could  hope  for  immortality  to  his 
fame.  They  attended  him  in  the  camp,  and 
contributed  to  eftablilh  his  power  by  their  fongs. 
His  great  anions  were  magnified,  and  the  popu-  , 
lace,  who  had  ho  ability  to  examine  into  his 
character  narrowly,  were  dazzled  with  his  fame 
in  the  rhimes  of  the  bards.  In  the  mean  time, 
men  alTumed  fentiments  that  are  rarely  to  be 
met  with  in  an  age  of  barbarifm.  The  bards 
who  were  originally  the  difciples  of  the  Druids, 
had  their  minds  opened,  and  their  ideas  enlarged, 
by  being  initiated  in  the  learning  of  thsCt  cele- 
brated order.  They  could  form  a  perfedl  hero 
in  their  own  minds,  and  afcribe  that  character  to 
their  prince.  The  inferior  chiefs  made  this  ideal 
chara(5ter  the  model  of  their  condut^,  and  by 
degrees  brought  their  minds  to  that  generous 
fpirit  which  breathes  in  all  the  poetry  of  the 
times.  The  prince,  flattered  by  his  bards,  and 
rivalled  by  his  own  heroes,  who  imitated  his 
character  as  defcribed  in  tlic  eulogies  of  his 
poets,  endeavoured  to  excel  his  people  in  merit, 
as  he  was  above  them  in  ftation.  This  emula- 
tion continuing,  formed  at  laft  the  general  cha- 
racter of  the  nation,   happily  compounded  of 

3  what 


xn      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

what  is  noble  in  barbarity,  and  virtuous  and  ge- 
nerous in  a  polifhed  people. 

When  virtue  in  peace,  and  bravery  in  war, 
are  the  chara6leriftlcs  of  a  nation,  their  a(5tions 
become  interefting,  and  their  fame  worthy  of 
immortality.  A  generous  fpirit  is  warmed  with 
noble  adions,  and  becomes  ambitious  of  perpe- 
tuating them.  This  is  the  true  fource  of  that 
divine  infpiration,  to  which  the  poets  of  all  ages 
pretended.  When  they  found  their  themes  in- 
adequate to  the  warmth  of  their  imaginations, 
they  varniflied  them  over  with  fables,  fupplied 
by  their  own  fancy,  or  furnifhed  by  abfurd  tra- 
ditions. Thefe  fables,  however  ridiculous,  had 
their  abettors  j  pofterity  either  implicitly  be- 
lieved them,  or  through  a  vanity  natural  to 
mankind,  pretended  that  they  did.  They  loved 
to  place  the  founders  of  their  families  in  the  days 
of  fable,  when  poetry,  without  the  fear  of  con- 
tradiction, could  give  what  characters  fhepleafed 
of  her  heroes.  It  is  to  this  vanity  that  we  owe 
the  prefervation  of  what  remain  of  the  works  of 
OiTian.  His  poetical  merit  made  his  heroes  fa- 
mous in  a  country  where  heroifm  was  much  ef- 
teemed  and  admired.  The  pofterity  of  thefe 
heroes  j  or  thofe  who  pretended  to  be  defcended 
from  them,  heard  with  pleafure  the  eulogiums 
of  their  ancellors  -,  bards  were  employed  to  re- 
peat 


ANtlQUlTYjkc.  of  OSSlAN'st*OEMS.      xvii 

peat  the  poems,  and  to  retjord  the  conne<5lIon  of 
their  patrons  with  chiefs  fo  renowned.  Every 
chief  in  procefs  of  time  had  a  bard  in  his  family, 
and  the  office  became  at  laft  hereditary.  By  the 
fiicceffion  of  thefe  bards,  the  poems  concerning 
the  anceftors  of  the  family  were  handed  down 
from  generation  to  generation ;  they  were  re- 
peated to  the  whole  clan  on  folemn  occafions, 
and  always  alluded  to  in  the  new  compofitions  of 
the  bards.  This  cuftom  came  down  near  to 
our  own  times ;  and  after  the  bards  were  difcon- 
tinued,  a  great  number  in  a  clan  retained  by 
memory,  or  committed  to  writing,  their  com- 
pofitions, and  founded  the  antiquity  of  their 
families  on  the  authority  of  their  poems. 

The  ufe  of  letter  was  not  known  in  the  north 
of  Europe  till  long  after  the  inftitution  of  the 
bards :  the  records  of  the  families  of  their  pa- 
trons, their  own,  and  more  ancient  poems  were 
handed  down  by  tradition.  Their  poetical  com- 
pofitions were  admirably  contrived  for  that  pur- 
pofe.  They  were  adapted  to  mufic;  and  the 
moft  perfe(5l  harmony  was  obferved.  Each 
verfe  was  fo  connected  with  thofe  which  preceded 
or  followed  it,  that  if  one  line  had  been  remem- 
bered in  a  ftanza,  it  was  almoft  impoflible  to 
forget  the  reft.  The  cadences  followed  in  fo  na- 
tural a  gradation,  and  the  words  were  fo  adapted 

b  to 


xviii    A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

to  the  common  turn   of  the  voice,  after  it  is 
raifed  to  a  certain  key,  that  it  was  ahnoftim- 
poffible,  from  a  fimilarity  of  found,  to  fubftitute 
one  word  for  another.     This  excellence  is  pecu- 
liar to  the  Celtic  tongue,  and  is  perhaps  to  be 
met  with  in  no  other  language.     Nor  doe^  this 
choice  of  words  clog  the  fenfe  or  weaken  the  ex- 
preffion.     The  numerous  'fle(5lions  of  confonants, 
.  and  variation  in  declenlion,  make  the  la.ngiiagc 
very  copious.  '  •  ■/     't 

The  defcendants  of  the  Celtae,  who  inhabited 
Britain  and  its  illes,  were  not  lingular  in  this 
method  of  preferving  the  moft  precious  monu- 
ments of  their  nation.  The  ancient  laws  of  the 
Greeks  were  couched  in  verfe,  and  handed  down 
by  tradition.  The  Spartans,  through  a  long 
habit,  became  fo  fond  of  this  cuftom,  that  they 
would  never  allow  their  laws  to  be  committed  to 
Writing.  The  anions  of  great  men,  and  the 
culogiums  of  kings  and  heroes,  were  preferved  in 
the  fame  manner.  All  the  hillorical  monuments 
of  the  old  Germans  were  comprehended  in.  their 
ancient  fongs  * ;  which  were  either  hymns  to 
their  gods,  or  elegies  in  praife  of  their  heroes, 
and  were  intended  to  perpetuate  the  great  events  in 
their  nation  which  were  carefully  interwoven  with 

*  Tacitus  de  mor.  Germ.     . 

them 


ANtiQuiTY,  &c.  of  OSSIAN'sPoE^s.  xix 
them.  This  fpccies  of  compofition  was  not 
committed  to  writing,  but  delivered  by  oral; 
tradition  *.  The  care  they  took  to  have  the 
poems  taught  to  their  children,  the  uninter-  ' 
rupted  cuftom  of  repeating  them  upon  certain 
occafions,  and  the  happy  meafure  of  the  verfe, 
ferved  to  preferve  them  for  a  long  time  uncor- 
rupted.  This  oral  chronicle  of  the  Germans 
was  not  forgot  in  the  eighth  century,  and  it 
probably  would  have  remained  to  this  day,  had 
not  learning,  which  thinks  every  thing,  that  is 
not  committed  to  writing,  fabulous,  been  intro- 
duced. It  was  from  poetical  traditions  that 
GarcillalTo  compofed  his  account  of  the  Yncas 
of  Peru.  The  Peruvians  had  loft  all  other  mo- 
numents of  their  hiftory,  and  it  was  from  an- 
cient poems  which  his  mother,  a  princefs  of  the 
blood  of  the  Yncas,  taught  him  in  his  youth, 
that  he  collected  the  materials  of  his  hiftory.  If 
other  nations  then,  that  had  been  often  overun 
by  enemies,  and  had  fent  abroad  and  received 
colonies,  could,  for  many  ages,  preferve,  by 
oral  tradition,  their  laws  and  hiftories  uncor- 
rupted,  it  is  much  more  probable  that  the  an- 
cient Scots,  a  people  fo  free  of  intermixture 
with  foreigners,  and  fo  ftrongly  attached  to  the 

*  j^l>l>i  de  la  Bletme  Remarque s  fur  la  Germanie. 

h  2  memory 


XX      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

memory  of  their  anceftors,  had  the  works  of 
their  bards  handed  down  with  great  purity. 

It  will  feem  flrange  to  fome,  that  poems  ad- 
mired for  many  centuries  in  one  part  of  this 
kingdom  ihould  be  hitherto  unknown  in  the 
other  J  and  that  the  Britifh,  who  have  carefully 
traced  out  the  works  of  genius  in  other  nations, 
Ihould  fo  long  remain  ftrangers  to  their  own. 
This,  in  a  great  meafure,  is  to  be  imputed  to 
thofe  who  underftood  both  languages  and  never 
attempted  a  tranflation.  They,  from  being  ac- 
quainted but  with  detached  pieces,  or  from  a 
modefty,  which  perhaps  the  prefent  translator 
ought,  in  prudence,  to  have  followed,  de^aired 
of  making  the  compofitions  of  their  bards  agree- 
able to  an  Englilh  reader.  The  manner  of  thofe 
compofitions  is  fo  different  from  other  poems, 
and  the  ideas  fo  confined  to  the  moft  early  fl:ate 
of  fociety,  that  it  was  thought  they  had  not 
enough  of  variety  to  pleafe  a  polifhed  age. 

This  was  long  the  opinion  of  the  tranflator 
of  the  following  collection  j  and  though  he  ad- 
mired the  poems,  in  the  original,  very  early, 
and  gathered  part  of  them  from  tradition  for  his 
own  amufement,  yet  he  never  had  the  fmallefl: 
hopes  of  feeing  them  in  an  Englifh  drefs.  He 
was  fenfible  that  the  Itrength  and  manner  of 
both  languages  were  very  different,  and  that  it 
5  was 


Antiquity,&c. of  OSSIAN's  Poems,     xxi 

■was  next  to  impoffible  to  tranflate  the  Galic 
poetry  into  any  thing  of  tolerable  Englllh  verfe  j 
a  profe  tranflation  he  could  never  think  of,  as 
it  muft  neceflarily  fall  fhort  of  the  majefty  of  au 
original. 

It  is  therefore  highly  probable,  that  the  com- 
politions  of  Offian  would  have  ftill  remained  in 
the  obfcurity  of  a  loft  language,  had  not  a  gen- 
tleman, who  has  himfelf  made  a  figure  in  the 
poetical  world,  infifted  with  the  prefent  editor 
for  a  literal  profe  tranflation  of  fome  detached 
piece.  He  approved  of  the  fpecimen,  and, 
through  him,  copies  came  to  the  liands  of  fe- 
veral  people  of  tafte  in  Scotland. 

Frequent  tranfcription  and  the  corrections 
of  thofe,  who  thought  they  mended  the  poems 
by  modernizing  the  ideas,  corrupted  them  to 
fuch  a  degree,  that  the  tranflator  was  mduced 
to  hearken  to  the  folicitations  of  a  gentleman 
defervedly  efteemed  in  Scotland,  for  his  tafte 
and  knowledge  in  polite  literature,  and  pub- 
liftied  the  genuine  copies  under  the  title  of 
JFragments  of  Ancient  Poetry.  The  fragments, 
upon  their  firft  appearance,  were  fo  much  ap- 
proved of,  that  feveral  people  of  rank,  as  well 
as  tafte,  prevailed  with  the  tranflator  to  make  a 
journey  to  the  Highlands  and  wcftern  ifles,  in 
order  tg  recover  what  remained  of  the  works  of 


"Ixii      A  DISSERTATION  concerning  the 

Oflian  he  fon  of  Fingal,  the  beft,  as  well  as  moft 
ancient  of  thofe  who  are  celebrated  in  tradition 
for  their  poetical  genius.  A  detail  of  this  jour- 
ney would  be  both  tedious  and  unentertaining ; 
let  it  fuffice  therefore  that,  after  a  peregrination 
of  fix  months,  the  tranflator  colleded  from  tra- 
dition, and  fome  manufcripts,  all  the  poems  ia 
the  following  colle(5Vion,  and  fome  more  ftill  in 
his  hands,  though  rendered  lefs  complete  by  the 
ravages  of  time, 

.  The  a6lion  of  the  poem  that  fiands  the  iirft, 
was  not  the  greateft  or  moft  celebrated  of  the  ex- 
ploits of  Fingal.  His  wars  were  very  numerous, 
and  each  of  them  afforded  a  theme  which  em- 
ployed the  genius  of  his  fon.  But,  excepting 
the  prefent  poem,  thofe  pieces  are  in  a  great 
meafure  loft,  and  there  only  remain  a  few  frag- 
ments of  them  in  the  hands  of  the  tranflator. 
Tradition  has  ftill  preferved,  in  many  places, 
the  ftory  of  thf^  poems,  and  many  now  living 
have  heard  them,  in  their  youth,  repeated, 
l  THE.complete  work,  now  printed,  would,  in 
^  fhort  time,  have  fhared  the  fate  of  the  reft. 
The  genius  of  the  highlanders  has  fuffered  a 
great  change  within  thefe  few  years.  The  com- 
munication, with  the  reft  of  the  ifland  is  open, 
and  the  introdu<5^ion  of  trade  and  manufactures 
lias  deftroyed  that  leifure  which  was  formerly 

dedicated 


AnTtQViTY,  &c.  of  OSSIAN's  Poems,    xxlil 

fd^dicated  to  hearing  and  repeating  the  poems  of 
ancienf  limes.     Many  have  now  learned  to  leave 
•.their  mountains,  and  feek  their  fortunes  in  a 
iiTlilder  .climate ; .  and  though   a  certain    amor 
.'patiriaiX^z.y  fometimes  bring  them  back,  they 
.have,-  during  their  abfence,  imbibed  enough  of 
■foreign. manners  to  defpife  the  cuftoms  of  their 
anceftors.     Bards  have  been  long  difufed,  and 
the   fpirit   of  genealogy   has   greatly  fubfided. 
Men  begin  to  be  lefs  devoted  to  their  chiefs,  and 
confanguinity  is  not  fo  much  regarded.     When 
property  is  eftablilhed,  the  human  mind  con- 
fines its  views  to  the  pleafure  it  procures..    It 
does  not  go  back  to  antiquity,  or  look  forward 
to  fucceeding  ages.     The  cares  of  life  increafe, 
and  the  a6lions  of  other  times  no  longer  amufe. 
Hence   it   is,    that   the  tafte   for   their   ancient 
poetry  is  at  a  low  ebb  among  the  highlanders. 
Tliey  have  not,  however,  thrown  off  the  good 
qualities  of  their  anceftors.     Hofpitality  ftill  fub- 
fifts,  and  an  uncommon   civility  to   ftrangers. 
Friendlhip  is  inviolable,  and  revenge  lefs  blindly 
followed  than  formerly. 

To  fpeak  of  the  poetical  merit  of  the  poems, 
would  be  an  anticipation  on  the  judgment  of  the 
public  :  And  all  that  can  be  faid  of  the  tranlla- 
tion,  is,  that  it  is  literal,  and  that  fimplicity  is 
ftudied.     The  arrangement  of  the  words  in  the 

original 


xxiv      A  DISSERTATION,  &c. 

original  is  imitated,  and  the  inverfions  of  the 
fiyle  obferved..  As  the  tranilator  claims  no  me- 
rit from  his  verfion,  he  hopes  for  the  indulgence 
of  the  public  where  he  fails.  He  wilhes  that  the 
imperfed  femblance  he  draws,  may  not  preju* 
dice  the  world  againft  an  original,  which  con- 
tains what  is  beautiful  in  fimplicity,  and  grand 
in  the  fublimc. 


F  I  N  G  A  L, 


CONTENTS. 

TT^INGAL,   an  Epic  Poem.        BOOK  L 

"**  Page     £ 

BOOK  II.  29 

BOOK  III.  49 

BOOK  IV,  69 

BOOKV.  89 

BOOK  VI.  107 

COMALA :  a  Dramatic  Poem  125 

The  WAR  of  CAROS :  a  Poem  1 36 

The  WAR  of  INIS-THONA :  a  Poem        148 

The  BATTLE  of  LOR  A :  a  Poem  158 

CONLATH  and  CUTHON A ;  a  Poem        1 7  > 

CARTHON:  a  Poem  «79 

The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN  :  a  Poem     20? 

D ARTHULA ;  a  Poem  2 1 S 

T^MORA :  an  Epic  Poem  241 

CAR- 


CONTENTS. 


CARRIC-THURA:  a  Poem 

Page  269 

The  SONGS  of  SELMA 

291 

CALTHON  and  COLMAL : 

a  Poem          304 

LATHMON  :  a  Poem 

316 

OITHONA :  a  Poem 

334 

CROMA :  a  Poem 

344 

BERRATJHON :  a  Poem 

356 

171         *;:.-c/ 


Q-i 


t    i    N     G     A     L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


In    SIX    BOOKS. 


B 


ARGUMENT    to    Book  I. 

Cuchullin,  (general  of  the  Irijh  tribes^  in  the  minority 
of  Cormac^  king  of  Ireland)  fitting  alone  beneath  a 
tree,  at  the  gate  of  Tura,  a  caftle  of  Ulfier,  (the 
other  chiefs  having  gone  on  a  hunting  'party  te 
Cromla^  a  neighbouring  hill)  is  informed  of  the 
landing  of  Swaran,  king  of  Lochlin,  by  Moran,  the 
fon  of  Fithil,  one  of  his  fcouts.  He  convenes  the 
chiefs',  a  council  is  held,  and  difputes  run  high 
about  giving  battle  to  the  enemy,  Connal,  the  petty 
king  ofTogorma,  and  an  intimate  friend  ofCuchullin, 
was  for  retreating  till  Fingal,  king  of  thofe  Cale- 

t  donians  who  inhabited  the  north-wefi  coafi  of  Scot" 
land,  whofe  aid  had  been  previoujly  foUicited,  fhould 
arrive-,  but  Calmar,  the  fon  of  Mat  ha,  lord  of  Lara, 
a  country  in  Connaught,  was  for  engaging  the  enemy 
immediately. — Cuchullin,  of  himfelf  willing  to  fight, 
went  into  the  opinion  ofCalmar.  Marching  towards 
the  enemy,  he  miffed  three  of  his  bravejl  heroes,  Fer^ 
gus,  Ducbomar,  and  Caithbat.  Fergus  arriving, 
tells  Cuchullin  of  the  death  of  the  two  other  chiefs ; 
which  introduces  the  affecting  epifode  of  Morna,  the 
daughter  of  Cormac — 'The  army  of  Cuchullin  is  de- 
f cried  at  a  diflance  by  Swaran,  who  fent  the  fon  of 
Arno  to  obferve  the  motions  of  the  enemy,  while  he 
himfelf  ranged  his  forces  in  order  of  battle."  ■  ■ 
'the  fon  of  Arno  returning  to  Svjaran,  defer ibes  to 
him  Cuchullin^ s  chariot,  and  the  terrible  appearance 
of  that  hero.  The  armies  engage,  but  night  coming 
on,  leaves  the  victory  undecided.  Cuchullin,  accord- 
ing to  the  hofpitaUty  of  the  times,  fends  to  Swaran 
a  formal  invitation  to  a  feaft,  by  his  bard  Carril, 
the  fon  ofKinfena. — Swaran  refufes  to  come.  Carril 
relates  to  Cuchullin  the  fiory  of  Grudar  and  Braf- 
folis.  A  party,  by  Connars  advice,  is  fent  to  ob- 
ferve the  enemy  \  which  clofes  the  aSiion  of  the  firfi 
day. 


t    3    ] 

F    I    N    G     A     L, 

AN    ANCIENT 

EPIC      POEM. 

In    SIX    BOOKS. 
BOOK     I. 

CUCHULLIN*  fatbyTura's  wall;  by 
the  tree  of  the  ruftling  leaf. His  fpear 

leaned  againft  the  nioffy  rock.     His  Ihield  lay 

*  Cuchullin,  or  rather  Cuth-Ullin,  the  'voice  of  Ullin,  a  po- 
etical name  given  the  fon  of  Semo  by  the  bards,  from  his  com- 
manding the  forces  of  the  Province  of  Ulfter  againft  the  Fer- 
bolg  or  Belgs,  who  were  in  poflefllon  of  Connaught.  Cu- 
chullin when  very  young  married  Bragela  the  daughter  of  Sor- 
glan,  and  pafling  over  into  Ireland,  lived  for  fome  time  with 
Connal,  grandfon  by  a  daughter  to  Congal  the  petty  king  of 
Ulfter.  His  wifdom  and  valour  in  a  fliort  time  gained  him  fuch 
Reputation,  that  in  the  minority  of  Cormac  the  fupreme  king  of 
Ireland,  he  was  chofen  guardian  to  the  young  king,  and  folc 
manager  of  the  war  againft  Swaran  king  of  Lochlin.  After  a 
feries  of  great  adtions  he  was  killed  in  battle  fomewhere  in  Con- 
naught,  in  the  twenty-feventh  year  of  his  age.  He  was  fo  re- 
markable for  his  ftrength,  that  to  defcribe  a  ftrong  man  it  has 
pafled  into  a  proverb,  *'  He  has  the  ftrength  of  Cuchullin." 
They  fliew  the  remains  of  his  palace  at  Dunfcaich  in  the  Ifle  of 
£kyc  ;  and  a  ftone  to  which  he  bound  his  dog  Luath,  goes  iUll 
\>y  his  name. 

B  «  by 


4  F   I    N  G    A   L,  Book  I. 

by  him  on  the  grafs.  As  he  thought  of  mighty 
Carbar  t"?  a-  hero  whom  he  flew  in  war ;  the 
fcout  §  of  the  ocean  came,  Moran  :J  the  fon  of 
Fithil. 

Rise,  faid  the  youth,  CuchuUin,  rife;  I  fee 
the  fhips  of  Swaran.  CuchuUin,  many  are  the 
foe  :    many  the  heroes  of  the  dark-rolling  fea. 

MoRAN  !  replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  thou 
ever  trembleft,  fon  of  Fithil  :  Thy  fears  have 
much  increafed  the  foe.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
king  II  of  the  lonely  hills  coming  to  aid  me  on 
green  Ullin's  plains. 


f  Cairbar  or  Cairbre  fignifies  a  flrong  man. 

§  We  may  conclude  from  CuchuUin's  applying  fo  early  for  fo- 
reign aid,  that  the  Irifti  were  not  then  fo  numerous  as  they  have 
fmce  been  ;  which  is  a  great  prefumption  againft  the  high  anti- 
quities of  that  people.  We  have  the  teftimony  of  Tacitus  that 
one  legion  only  was  thought  fufficient,  in  the  time  of  Agricola, 
to  reduce  the  whole  ifland  under  the  Roman  yoke  ;  which  would 
not  probably  have  been  the  cafe  had  the  ifland  been  inhabited  for 
any  number  of  centuries  before. 

J  Moran  fignifies  many  j  and  Fithil,  or  rather  Fili,  a«  infe- 
rior hard. 

II  Fingal  the  fon  of  Comhal,  and  Morna  the  daughter  of 
Thaddu.  His  grandfather  was  Trathal,  and  great  grandfather 
Trenmor,  both  of  whom  are  often  mentioned  in  the  poem.— 
Trenmor,  according  to  tradition,  had  two  fons ;  Trathal,  who 
fucceeded  him  in  the  Kingdom  of  Morven,  and  Conar,  called  by 
the  bards  Conar  the  great y  who  was  elefted  king  of  all  Ireland, 
and  was  the  anceftor  of  that  Cormac  who  fat  on  the  Irifh  throne 
when  the  invafion  of  Swaran  happened.  It  may  not  be  impro- 
per, here  to  obfetve,  that  the  accent  ought  always  to  be  placed 
•n  the  laft  fyllable  of  Fingal. 

J  I  sA\r 


Book  I.      An    EPIC   POEM.  ^ 

I  SAW  their  chief,  fays  Moran,  tall  as  a  rock 
of  ice.  His  fpear  is  like  that  blafted  fir.  His 
fhield  like  the  rifing  moon.  He  fat  on  a  rock 
on  the  fhore  :  his  dark  hoft  rolled,  like  clouds, 
around  him.— —Many,  chief  of  men!  1  faid, 
many  are  our  hands  of  war.— Well  art  thou 
named,  the  Mighty  Man,  but  many  mighty 

men  are  feen  from  Tura's  windy  walls. He 

anfwered,  like  a  wave  on  a  rock,  who  in  this 
land  appears  like  me  ?  Heroes  ftand  not  in  my 
prefence  :  they  fall  to  earth  beneath  my  hand. 
None  can  meet  Swaran  in  the  fight  but  Fingal, 
king  of  ftormy  hills.  Once  we  wreftled  on  the 
heath  of  Malmor  *,  and  our  heels  overturned 
the  wood.  Rocks  fell  from  their  place;  and 
rivulets,  changing  their  courfe,  filed  murmur- 
ing from  our  ftrife.  Three  days  we  renewed 
our  flrife,  and  heroes  flood  at  a  diftance  and 
trembled.  On  the  fourth,  Fingal  fays,  that 
the  king  of  the  ocean  fell ;  but  Swaran  fays,  he 
flood.  Let  dark  Cuchullin  yield  to  him  that  is 
ftrong  as  the  ftorms  of  Malmor. 

No :  replied  the  blue-eyed  chief,  I  will  never 
yield  to  man.  Dark  Cuchullin  will  be  great 
or  dead.     Go,  Fithil's  fon,  and  take  my  fpear  : 

t  Meal-mor — a  great  h'llL 

B  3  flrikc 


€         ,  F    I    N    G    A   L,  Book  I. 

ftrike  the  founding  Ihield  of  Cabalt  ||.  It  hangs 
at  Tura's  ruftling  gate ;  the  found  of  peace  15 
not  its  voice.  My  heroes  fhall  hear  on  the  hill. 
He  went  and  ftruck  the  bofly  Ihield.  The 
hills  and  their  rocks  replied.  The  found  fpread 
along  the  wood  :  deer  ftart  by  the  lake  of  roes. 
Curach  *  leapt  from  the  founding  rock ;  and 
Connal  of  the  bloody  fpear.  Crugal's  "f  breaft 
of  fnow  beats  high.  The  fon  of  Favi  leaves 
the  dark-brown  hind.  It  is  the  fhield  of  war, 
faid  Ronnar,  the  fpear  of  Cuchullin,  faid  Lu- 

gar. Son  of  the  fea,  put  on  thy  arms  !  Cal- 

mar  lift  thy  founding  fteel !  Puno  !  horrid  hero, 
rife  :  Cairbar  from  thy  red  tree  of  Cromla. 
Bend  thy  white  knee,  O  Eth ;  and  defcend  from 

the  ftreams   of  Lena. Ca-olt    ftretch    thy 

white  fide  as  thou  moveft  along  the  whiftling 
heath  of  Mora :  thy  fide  that  is  white  as  the 
foam  of  the  troubled  fea,  when  the  dark  winds 
pour  it  on  the  murmuring  rocks  of  Cuthon  i. 

jl  Cabait,  or  rather  Cathbait,  grandfather  to  the  hero,  was  {& 
remarkable  for  his  valour,  that  his  fhield  was  made  ufe  of  to 
alarm  his  pofterity  to  the  battles  of  the  family.     We  find  Fingal 

making  the  fame  ufe  of  his  own  ftiield  in  the  4th  book, A 

horn  was  the  moil  common  inftrument  to  call  the  army  together 
before  the  invention  of  bagpipes. 

•  Cu-raoch  fignifies  the  m  dnefi  of  battle. 

■J-  Cruth-geal 'fair-complexioned. 

X  Cu-th«n — the  mournful  found  of  nvaves. 

Now 


Book  I,      A^f    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  f 

Now  I  behold  the  chiefs  in  the  pride  of  their 
former  deeds ;  their  fouls  are  kindled  at  the 
battles  of  old,  and  the  anions  of  other  times. 
Their  eyes  are  like  flames  of  fire,  and  roll  in 

iearch  of  the  foes  of  the  land. Their  mighty 

hands  are  on  their  fwords  j   and  lightning  pours 

from   their  fides   of  fteel. They   came  like 

ftreams  from  the  mountains ;  each  ruflied  roar- 
ing from  his  hill.      Bright   are  the  chiefs   of 

battle    in    the    armour   of    their   fathers. 

Gloomy  and  dark  their  heroes  followed,  like 
the  gathering  of  the  rainy  clouds  behind  the 

red  meteors  of  heaven. The  founds  of  cralh- 

ing  arms  afcend.  The  grey  dogs  howl  between. 
Unequally  burfts  the  fong  of  battle ;  and  rock- 
ing Cromla  *  echoes  round.  On  Lena's  dufky 
heath  they  flood,  like  miftf  that  fhades  the  hills 
of  autumn :  when  broken  and  dark  it  fettles 
high,  and  lifts  its  head  to  heaven. 

•  Crom-leach  fignified  a  place  of  worfliip  among  the  Druids. 
It  is  here  the  proper  name  of  a  hill  on  the  coaft  of  Ullin  or 
Ulfler. 


ATp>aj.  HOM.  II.  5.   V.  52Z. 

So  vhen  th'  embattled  clouds  in  dark  array, 
Along  the  flcies  their  gloomy  lines  difplay  ; 
The  low-hung  vapours  motionlefs  and  ftill 
Reft  on  the  fummits  of  the  Ihaded  hill.  Port. 

B  4  Hail^ 


t  'F  I  n  Q    A   L,         Book  L 

Hail,  faid  Cuchullin,  fons  of  the  Jnarrow 
vales,  hail  ye  hunters  of  the  deer.  Another 
fport  is  drawing  near  :  it  \s  like  the  dark  roll- 
ing of  that  wave  on  the  coaft.  Shall  we  fight,  ye 
fons  of  war  !  or  yield  green  Innisfail  i  to  Loch- 
lin  ?— — -O  Connal  ||  fpeak,  thou  firft  of  men  I 
thou  breaker  of  the  fhields !  thou  haft  oftea 
fought  with  Lochlin  ;  wilt  thou  lift  thy  father's 
Ipear  ? 

Cuchullin  !  calm  the  chief  replied,  the 
fpear  of  Connal  is  keen.  It  delights  to  Ihine  in 
battle,  and  to  mix  with  the  blood  of  thoufands. 
But  tho*  my  hand  is  bent  on  war,  my  heart  is 
for  the  peace  of  Erin  *.  Behold,  thou  firft  in 
Cormac's  war,  the  fable  fleet  of  Swaran.  His 
mafts  are  as  numerous  on  our  coaft  as  reeds  in 

X  Ireland  fo  called  from  a  colony  that  fettled  there  called  Fa- 
lans.— Innis-fail,  i.  e.  the  ifland  o^  the  Fa-il  or  Falans. 

II  Connal,  the  friend  of  Cuchullin,  was  the  fon  of  Cathbait 
prince  of  Tongorma  or  the  ijland  of  blue  nxjd'ves,  probably  one 
of  the  Hebrides.  His  mother  was  Fioncoma  the  daughter  of 
Congal.  He  had  a  fon  by  Foba  of  Conachar-nefTar,  who 
was  afterwards  king  of  Lllfler.  For  his  fervices  in  the  war 
againft  Swarao  he  had  lands  conferred  on  him,  which,  from  his 
name,  were  called  Tir-chonnuil  or  Tir-connel,  ;.  e.  the  land  of 
Connal. 

*  Erin,  a  name  of  Ireland  ;  from  ear  or  iar  Weft,  and  in  an 
ifland.  This  name  was  not  always  confined  to  Ireland,  for  there 
is  thehigheft  probability  that  the  leme  ofihe  ancients  was  Britain 
to  the  North  of  the  Forth. — For  feme  is  faid  to  be  to  the  North 
•f  Britain,  which  could  not  be  meant  of  Ireland. 

Strabo,  I.  2.  &  4.  Casaub.  1,  I. 

^'  '■^-  •     i'  the 


Book  I.      An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  ^ 

the  lake  of  Lego.  His  fhlps  are  like  forefls 
cloathed  with  mif|,  when  the  trees  yield  by  turns 
to  the  fqually  wind.     Many  are  his  chiefs  in 

battle.     Connal  is  for  peace. Fingal  would 

ihun  his  arm  the  firft  of  mortal  men  :  Fingal 
that  fcatters  the  mighty,  as  ftormy  winds  the 
heath ;  when  the  ftreams  roar  thro'  echoing 
Cona  ;  aild  night  fettles  with  all  her  clouds  Oil 
the  hill. 

Fly,  thou  chief   of    peace,  faid  Calmar-f* 

the  fon  of  Matha ;    fly,  Connal,  to  thy  filent 

hills,  where  the  fpear   of  battle  never  fhone ; 

purfue  the  dark-brown  deer  of  Cromla  :   and 

flop  with  thine  arrows  the  bounding  roes  of 

Lena.    But,  blue-eyed  fon  of  Semo,  CuchuUin, 

ruler  of  the  war,  fcatter  thou  the  fons  of  Loch- 

lin  X,  and  roar  thro'  the  ranks  of  their  pride. 

Let  no  vefTel  of  the  kingdom  of  Snow  bound 

on  the  dark-rolling  waves  of  Inis-tore  ||.      O  ye 

dark  winds  of  Erin  rife  !   roar  ye  whirlwinds' of 

the  heath  !  Aniidft  the  tempeft  let  me  die,  torn 

in  a  cloud  by  angry  ghofts  of  men ;  amidft  the 

tempeft  let  Calmar  die,  if  ever  chace  was  fport 

to  him  fo  much  as  the  battle  of  Ihields. 

•f-  Calm-er,  aJJrcng  man. 

X  The  Galic  name  of  Scandinavia  in  general ;  in  a  more  con- 
fined fenfe  that  of  the  peninfula  of  Jutland. 

I!  Innis-tore,  the  ifland  of  nvha'es,  the  ancient  name  of  the 
Orkney  iilands. 

Calmar! 


to  '  F    I   N    G    A    L,         Book  I. 

Calmar!  flow  replied  the  chief,  I  never 
fled,  O  Matha's  fon.  I  was  fwift  witli  my 
friends  in  battle,  but  fniall  is  the  fame  of  Con- 
nal.  The  battle  was  wpn  in  my  prefence,  and 
the  valiant  overcame.  But,  fon  of  Semo,  hear 
my  voice,  regard  the  ancient  throne  of  Cormac. 
Give  wealth  and  half  the  land  for  peace,  till 
Fingal  come  with  battle.  Or,  if  war  be  thy 
choice,  I  lift  the  fword  and  fpear.  My  joy  fliall 
be  in,  the  midft  of  thoufands,  and  my  foul 
brighten  in  the  gloom  of  the  fight. 

To  me,  Cuchullin  replies,  pleafant  is  the 
noife  of  arms  :  pleafant  as  the  thunder  of  hea- 
ven before  the  fhower  of  Spring.  But  gather 
all  the  Ihining  tribes  that  I  may  view  the  fons 
of  war.  Let  them  move  along  the  heath,  bright 
as  the  fun-fhine  before  a  florm  ;  when  the  weft 
wind  colle6^s  the  clouds,  and  the  oaks  of  Mor- 
ven  echo  along  the  fhore. 

But  where  are  my  friends  in  battle?  The 
companions  of  my  arm  in  danger  ?  Where  art 
thou,  white-bofom'd  Cathbat  ?  Where  is  that 
cloud  in  war,  Duchomar  *  ?  and  haft  thou  left 
me,  O  Fergus-'f' !  in  the  day  of  the  ftorm  ? 
Fergus,  firft   in  our  joy   at  the  feaft  !  fon  of 

•  Dubhchomar,  a  Hack  nvell-Jkaped  man. 
f  Fear-guth, — the  man  of  the  iiord \  or  a  commander  of  an 
army. 

RoiTa  ! 


3ooK  I.      An   E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  1 1 

Rofla !  arm  of  death!  comeft  thou  like  a  roc:^ 
from  Malmor  ?  Like  a  hart  from  the  ecchoing 

hills  ? Hail  thou  fon  of  RofTa !  what  fhades 

the  foul  of  war  ? 

Four  ftones  ||,  replied  the  chief,  rife  on  the 

gratve  of  Cathbat. ^Thefe  hands  have  laid  in 

earth  Duchomar,  that  cloud  in  war.  Cathbat, 
thou  fon  of  Torman,  thou  wert  a  fun-beam  on 

the  hilL And  thou,  O  valiant  Duchomar, 

like  the  mill  of  marlhy  Lano;  when  it  fails 
over  the  plains  of  autumn  and  brings  death  to 
the  people.  Morna,  thou  faireft  of  maids !  calm 
is  thy  lleep  in  the  cave  of  the  rock.  Thou  haft 
fallen  in  darknefs  like  a  ftar,  that  fhoots  athwart 
the  defart,  when  the  traveller  is  alone,  and 
mourns  the  tranfient  beam. 

Say,  faid  Semo's  blue-eyed  fon,  fay  how  fell 
the  chiefs  of  Erin  ?  Fell  they  by  the  fons  of 

X  Be  thou  like  a  roe  or  young  hart  on  the  mountains  of 
Bether.  Solomon's  Song. 

II  This  palTage  alludes  to  the  manner  of  burial  among  the  an- 
cient Scots.  They  opened  a  grave  fix  or  eight  feet  deep  :  the 
bottom  was  lined  with  fine  clay  ;  and  on  this  they  laid  the  body 
of  the  deceafed,  and,  if  a  warrior,  his  fword,  and  the  heads  of 
twelve  arrows  by  his  fide.  Above  they  laid  another  ftratum  of 
clay,  in  which  they  placed  the  horn  of  a  deer,  the  fymbol  of 
hunting.  The  whole  was  covered  with  a  fine  mold,  and  four 
ftones  placed  on  end  to  mark  the  extent  of  the  grave.  Thefe 
are  the  four  ftones  alluded  to  here. 

Lochlin, 


n  ■    ^    I    N    G    A    L,        BooKt 

Lochlin,  ftriving  in  the  battle  of  heroes?  Or 
what  confines  the  chiefs  of  Cromla  to  the  dark 
and  narrow  hoiife  *  ? 

Cathbat,  replied -the  hero,  fell  by  the 
fword  of  Duchomar  at  the  oak  of  the  noify 
fireams.  Duchomar  came  to  Tura's  cave,  and 
fpoke  to  the  lovely  Morna. 

Morn  A  "f*,  faireft  among  women,  lovely 
daughter  of  Cormac-cairbar.  Why  in  the  circle 
of  ftones ;  in  the  cave  of  the  rock  alone  ?  The 
fiream  murmurs  hoarfely.  The  old  tree's  groan 
is  in  the  wind.  The  lake  is  troubled  before 
thee,  and  dark  are  the  clouds  of  the  fky.  But 
thou  art  like  fnow  on  the  heath  j  and  thy  hair 
like  the  mift   of  Cromla  j  v/hen  it  curls  on  the 

rocks,  and  Ihines  to  the  beam  of  the  weft. 

Thy  breafts  are  like  two  fmooth  recks  feen  from 
Branno  of  the  ftreams.  Thy  arms  like  two 
white  pillars  in  the  halls  of  the  mighty  Fin  gal.  - 

From  whence,  the  white-armed  maid  re- 
plied, from  whence,  Duchomar  themoft  gloomy 
of  men  ?  Dark  are  thy  brows  and  terrible. 
P  ed  are  thy  rolling  eyes.  Does  Swaran  appear 
on  the  fea  ?  What  of  the  foe,  Duchomar  ? 

From  the  hill  I  return,  O  Morna,  from  the 
hill   of  the  dark-brown  hinds.     Three   have  I 

*  The  grave. The  houfe  appointed  for  all  living.      Joe. 

■f  Muirne  or  Morna,  a  nvoman  beloved  by  lalL 

flain 


Book  I.      An    EPIC   POEM.  13 

ilaln  with  my   bended  yew.     Three  with  my 

long  bounding  dogs  of  the  chace. Lovely 

daughter  of  Cormac,  I   love  thee  as  my  foul, 

• 1  have  flain  one  ftately  deer  for  thee.  ■ 

High  was  his  branchy  head ;  and  fleet  his  feet  of 
wind. 

DucHOMAR  !  calm  the  maid  replied,  I  love 

thee  not,  thou  gloomy  man. Hard  is  thy 

heart  of  rock,  and  dark  thy  terrible  brow.  But 
Cathbat,  thou  fon  of  Torman  *,  thou  art  the 
love  of  Morna.  Thou  art  like  a  fun-beam  on 
the  hill  in  the  day  of  the  gloomy  ftorm.  Saw- 
ieft  thou  the  fon  of  Torman,  lovely  on  the  hill» 
of  his  hinds  ?  Here  the  daughter  of  Cormac 
waits  the  coming  of  Cathbat. 

And  long  Ihall  Morna  wait,  Duchomar  faid, 

his  blood  is  on  my  fword. Long  fhall  Morna 

wait  for  him.  He  fell  at  Bran  no's  ftream. 
High  on  Cromla  I  will  raife  his  tomb,  daughter 
of  Cormac-cairbar ;  but  fix  thy  love  on  Ducho- 
mar, his  arm  is  ftrong  as  a  ftorm. 

And  is  the  fon  of  Torman  fallen?  faid  the 
maid  of  the  tearful  eye.  Is  he  fallen  on  his 
ecchoing  heath ;  the  youth  with  the  breaft  of 
fnow  ?  he  that  was  firft  in  the  chace  of  the  hill ; 
the  foe  of  the  ftrangers  of  the  ocean. Du- 

*  Torman,  fbuvder.  This  is  the  true  origin  of  the  Jupiter 
Taramis  of  the  ancients. 

chomar 


14  F    I    N   G   A    L,        Book!. 

chomar  thou  art  dark  f  indeed,  and  cruel  is  thy 
arm  to  Morna.  But  give  me  that  fword,  my 
foe ;  I  love  the  blood  of  Caithbat. 

He  gave  the  fword  to  her  tears;  but  Ihc 
pierced  his  manly  breaft.  He  fell,  like  the  bank 
of  a  mountain-ftream  5  ftretched  out  his  arm 
and  faid ; 

Daughter  of  Cormac-cairbar,  thou  haft 
llain  Duchomar.  The  fword  is  cold  in  my 
breaft :  Morna,  I  feel  it  cold.  Give  me  to 
Moina  *  the  maid ;  Duchomar  was  the  dream 
of  her  night.  She  will  raife  my  tomb  ;  and  the 
hunter  Ihall  fee  it  and  praife  me.  But  draw  ths 
fword  from  my  breaft;  Morna,  the  fteel  is  cold. 

She  came,  in  all  her  tears,  flie  came,  and 
drew  it  from  his  breaft.  He  pierced  her  white 
lide  with  fteel ;  and  fpread  her  fair  locks  on  the 
ground.  Her  burfting  blood  founds  from  her 
iide  I  and  her  white  arm  is  ftained  with  red. 
Rolling  in  death  flie  lay,  and  Tura's  cave  an- 
fwered  to  her  groans. 

Peace,  faid  Cuchullin,  to  the  fouls  of  the 
heroes  ;  their  deeds  were  great  in  danger.  Let 
them  ride  around  f  me  on  clouds ;  and  Ibew 

t  She  alludes  to  his  name ii>e  dark  max^ 

*  Moina,  foft  in  temper  and  per/on. 

■f-  It  was  the  opinion  then,  as  indeed  it  is  to  this  day,  of  fbme 
of  the  highlanders,  that  the  fouls  of  the  deceafed  hovered  round 
their  living  friends ;  and  fometimes  appeared  to  them  when  thpy 
W^re  about  to  enter  on  any  great  undertaking. 

I  their 


Book  I.      An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  ^^ 

their  features  of  war :  that  my  foul  may  be 
ftrong  in  danger ;  my  arm  like  the  thunder  of 

heaven. But  be  thou  on  a  moon-beam,  O 

Morna,  near  the  window  of  my  reft;  when  my 
thoughts  are  of  peace  i  and  the  din  of  arms  is 

over. Gather  the  ftrength  of  the  tribes,  and 

move  to  the  wars  of  Erin. Attend  the  car 

of  my  battles ;  rejoice  in  the  noife  of  my 
courfe. Place  three  fpears  by  my  fide ;  fol- 
low the  bounding  of  my  fteeds ;  that  my  foul 
may  be  ftrong  in  my  friends,  when  the  battle 
darkens  round  the  beams  of  my  fteel. 

As  rulhes  a  ftream  *  of  foam  from  the  dark: 
Ihady  fteep  of  Cromla ;  when  the  thunder  is 
rolling  above,  and  dark-brown  night  on  half 
the  hill.  So  fierce,  fo  vaft,  fo  terrible  rulhed 
on  the  fons  of  Erin.     The  chief  like  a  whxilc 

E?  fjuffyxlKnav  av^ot,y<hiTov  'ijQfii/,ov  vauft 

Kfuvuii  ex  [A,iydxuv  xoiXn^  «'To<r6i  prjapaJpri?.  li0U» 

As  tofrents  roll  encreas'd  by  numerous  rills 

With  rage  impetuous  down  the  ecchoing  hills  ; 

Rufli  to  the  vales,  and  pour'd  along  the  plain. 

Roar  thro'  a  thoufand  channels  to  the  main.  Pope, 

j^uf  ubi  decurfu  rapido  de  montibus  altiSf 

D  ant  foni  turn  fpumoji  amnesf  i^  in  eequora  cur  runt, 

^i/jue  fuum  populatui  iter.  Vi  R c. 


of 


;i6  '    f   i    N    G    A    L,  Booxf; 

of  ocean,  whom  all  his  billows  follow,  poured 
valour  forth  as  a  ftream,  rolling  his  might  along 
the  Ihore, 

The  fons  of  Lochlin  heard  the  noife  as  the 
found  of  a  winter-ftream,  Swaran  ftrucfc  his 
boiTy  fhield,  and  called  the  fon  of  Arno.  What 
murmur  rolls  along  the  hill  like  the  gathered 
flies  of  evening  ?  The  fons  of  Innis-fail  defcend, 
or  ruftling  winds  roar  in  the  diftant  wood. 
Such  is  the  noife  of  Gormal  before  the  white 
tops  of  my  waves  arife.  O  fon  of  Arno,  af- 
cend  the  hill  and  view  the  dark  face  of  the 
heath. 

He  went,  and  trembling,  fwift  returned. 
His  eyes  rolled  wildly  round.  His  heart  beat 
high  againft  his  fide.  His  words  were  faulter- 
ing,  broken,  flow. 

Rise,  fon  of  ocean,  rife  chief  of  the  dark- 
brown  fliields.  I  fee  the  dark,  the  mountain- 
ilream  of  the  battle  :   the  deep-moving  flrength 

of  the  fons  of  Erin. The  car,  the  car  of 

battle  comes,  like  the  flame  of  death;  the  rapid 
car  of  CuchuUin,  the  noble  fon  of  Semo.  It 
bends  behind  like  a  wave  near  a  rock  ;  like  the 
golden  mift  of  the  heath.  Its  fides  are  embofled 
with  fiones,  and  fparkle  like  the  fea  round  the 

boat 


Book  I.      An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  Vy 

boat  of  night.  Of  poliihed  yew  is  its  beam, 
and  its  feat  of  the  fmootheft  bone.  The  fides 
are  repleniihed  with  fpcars ;  and  the  bottom  is 
the  footftool  of  heroes.  Before  the  right  fide 
of  the  car  is  feen  the  fnorting  horfe.  The  high- 
maned,  broad-breafted,  proud,  high-leaping, 
ftrong  fteed  of  the  hill.  Loud  and  refounding 
is  his  hoof  J  tlie  fpreading  of  his  mane  above  is 
like  that  ftream  of  fmoke  on  the  heath.  Bright 
are  the  fides  of  the  fteed,  and  his  name  is  Sulin- 
Sifadda. 

Before  the  left  fide  of  the  car  is  ieen  the 
fnorting  horfe.  The  dark-maned,  high-headed, 
firong-hooffed,  fleet,  bounding  fon  of  the  hill : 
his  name  is  Dufronnal  among  the  ftormy  fons 

of  the  fword. A  thoufand  thongs  bind  the 

car  on  high.  Hard  poliihed  bits  Ihine  in  a 
wreath  of  foam.  Thin  thongs  bright-ft added 
with  gems,  bend  on  the  ftately  necks  of  the 

fteeds. ^The  fteeds  that  like  wreaths  of  mift 

fly  over  the  ftreamy  vales.  The  wildnefs  of  deer 
is  in  their  courfe,  the  ftrength  of  the  eagle  de- 
fcending  on  her  prey.  Their  noife  is  like  the 
blaft  of  winter  on  the  fides  of  the  fnow-headed 
Gormal  *. 

•  A  hili  of  Lochlln. 

C  WiTHIie 


^^  ^r   F    LN   G    A  U        BooKh 

Within  the  car  is  feen  the  chief;  the  ftrong 
Hormy  fon  of  the  fword ;  the  hero's  name  is 
CuchulUn,  Ion  of  Semo  king  of  fliells.  His  red 
cheek  is  like  my  polilhed  yew.  The  look  of 
his  blue-rolling  eye  is  wide  beneath  the  dark 
.arch  of  his  brow.  His  hair  flics  from  his  head 
-like  a  flame,  as  bending  forward  he  wields  the 
ripear.  Fly,  king  of  ocean,  fly  ;  he  comes, 
jUk?  a  ftorm,  along  the  llreamy  vale, 
*.  tWhen  did  I  fly,  replied  the  king,  from  the 
battle  of  many  fpears  ?  When  did  I  fly,  fon  of 
Arno,  chief  -of  ihe  little  foul  ?  I  met  the  florm 
of  Gormal  when  the  foam  of  my  waves  was 
high;  I  met  the  ftorm  of  the  clouds  and  Ihall  I 
:fiy  frotn  ^  jhero  ?  Were  it  Fingal  himfelf  my 

:foul  lli0uld  not  darken  before  him. Rife  to 

jthe  battle,  rxiy  thoufands ;  pour  round  me  like 
the  echoing  main.  Gather  round  the  bright 
fleel  of  your  king ;  flrong  as  the  rocks  of  my 
land;  that  meet  the  ftorm  with  joy,  and  flretch 
their  dark  woodja.  to  the  wind. 

As  autumn's  ■*  dark  fiorms  pour  from  two 
echoing  hill$,  towards  each  other  approached 
L.^  -Li    :jiij  ;,/,.  ^j  %  the 


*  The  render  may  compare  thin  pafTage  with  a  fimilar  one  in 
omer.     Iliad. 4.  v.  44JS.        ^^'^A. 

Now  fhield  with  ihield,  ^h  helmet  heiir.et  cloi'd, 
: ,  Tqvihour  armour,  lance  to  lance\ppo?'d, 

Hoft 


BoQK  I.       An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  19 

the  heroes. — —As  two  dark  ftreams  from  high 
rocks  meet,  and  mix  and  roar  oh  the  plain; 
loud,  rou^h  and  dark  in  battle  meet  Lochlin 
and  Innis-fail.  Chief  mixed  his  ftrokes  with 
chief,  and  man  with  man ;  fleel,  clanging, 
founded   on   fteel,  helmets  are   cleft  on   high. 

Blood  burils  and    fmoaks   around. Strings 

twang  on  the  poliflied  yews.  Darts  rulh  along 
the  flcy.  Spears  fall  like  the  circles  of  light 
that  gild  the  ftormy  face  of  night. 

As  the  troubled  noife  of  thp  ocean  when  roll 
the  waves  on  high ;  as  the  laft  peal  of  the  thun- 
der, of  heaven,  fuch  is  the  noife  of  battle. 
Though  Cormac's  hundred  bards  were  there  to 
give  the  war  to  fong  ;  feeble  were  the  voices  of 
a  hundred  bards  to  fend  the  deaths  to  future 
times.  For  many  were  the  falls  of  the  heroes  > 
and  wide  poured  the  blood  of  the  valiant. 

Hoft  againft  hoft,  with  (hadowy  fquadrons  drew. 
The  founding  darts  in  iron  tcmpefts  flew  ; 
With  ftreaming  blood  the  flipp'ry  fields  arc  dy*d. 
And  flaugbter'd  heroes  Avell  the  dreadful  tide.  PoP>^ 

)    Statius  has  very  happily  imitated  Homer. 

Jam  clyptu^  clypeis,  unbone  re^ellitur  umho, 
E'fi  mnax  infes,  pede  pes,  i5*  cufplde  cu/pisy  (fff. 

Arms  on  armour  crafhing,  bray'd 
Horrible  difcord,  and  the  madding  wheels 
Of  brazea  chariots  rag'd,  &c.  Milton. 

C  2  Mourn. 


lo  FIN  G   A    L,  BookIJ' 

Mourn,  ye  fons  of  fong,  the  death  of  the 

noble  Sithallin  *. Let  the  fighs  of  Fiona  rife 

on  the  dark  heaths  of  her  lovely  Ardan. 

They  fell,  like  two  hinds  of  the  defart,  by  the 
Jiands  of  the  mighty  Swaran  i  when,  in  the 
midft  of  thoufands  he  roared  j  like  the  fhrill 
fpirit  of  a  ftorm,  that  fits  dim,  on  the  clouds  of 
Gormal,  and  enjoys  the  death  of  the  mariner. 

.  Nor  flept  thy  hand  by  thy  fide,  chief  of  the 
ifle  of  mift  "f »  many  were  the  deaths  of  thine 
arm,  CuchulUn,  thou  fon  of  Semo.  Hisfword 
was  like  the  beam  of  heaven  when  it  pierces  the 
fons  of  the  vale ;  when  the  people  are  blafted 
and  fall,  and  all  the  hills  arc  burning  around. 
Dufronnal  4^  fnorted  over  the  bodies  of  he- 
foes  ;  and  Sifadda  |j  bathed  his  hoof  in  blood* 
The  battle  lay  behind  them  as  groves  overturned 
on  the  defart  of  Cromla ;  when  the  blaft  has 
palled  the  heath  laden  with  the  fpirits  of  night. 

•  Sithallin  fignifics  a  hanJJemt  man  ; — Fion^  a  fair  maid -^ — 
iind  Ardan,  pride. 

f  The  Ifle  of  Sky  ;  not  improperly  called  the  ijk  ofm'ft^  as 
its  high  hills,  which  catch  the  clouds  from  the  weftern  ocean, 
occafion  almoft  continual  rains. 

\  One  of  CuchuUin's  horfes.     Dubhftron-ghcal. 
I  Sith-fadda,  i.e.  aUnifltidt. 

'  Weep 


Book  I.      An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  2^ 

Weep  on  the  rocks  of  roaring  winds,  O  maid 
of  Iniftore  *,  bend  thy  fair  head  over  the  waves, 
thou  fairer  than  the  fplrit  of  the  hills ;  when  it 
moves  in  a  fun-beam  at  noon  o^er  the  filcnce  of 
Morven.  He  is  fallen  I  thy  youth  is  low  ;  pale 
beneath  the  fword  of  Cuchullin.  No  moie 
iTiall  valour  raife  the  youth  to  match  the  blood 

of  kings. Trcnar,  lovety  Trenar  died,  thou 

maid  of  Iniftore.  His  gray  dogs  are  howling 
at  home,  and  fee  his  palling  ghoft.  His  bow  is 
in  the  hall  unftrung.  No  found  is  in  the  heath 
of  his  hinds. 

As  roll  a  thoufand  waves  to  the  rocks,  fo 
Swaran's  hoft  came  on ;  as  meets  a  rock  a  thou- 
fand waves,  fo  Innis-fail  met  Swaran.  Death 
raifes  all  his  voices  around,  and  mixes  with  the 

found  of  fhields. Each  hero  is  a  pillar  of 

darknefs,  and  the  fword  a  beam  of  fire  in  his 
hand.     The  field  echoes  from  wing  to  wing,  as 

•  The  maid  of  Inifiore  was  tlie  daughter  of  Gorlo  Icing  of 
Inillore  or  Orkney  iflands.  Trenar  was  brother  to  the  king  of 
Inifcon,  fuppofed  to  be  one  of  the  iflnnds  of  Shetland.  The 
Orkneys  and  Shetland  were  at  that  timp  fuhjed  to  the  king  of 
Lochlin,  We  find  that  the  dogs  of  7  renar  are  fenfible  at  home 
of  the  death  of  iheir  mailer,  the  very  iullani  he  is  killed. 
It  was  the  opinion  of  the  times  that  the  fouls  of  heroes  weUt 
immediately  after  death  to  the  hills  of  their  country,  and  the 
fcenes  they  frequented  the  moft  happy  time  of  their  life.  It  was 
thought  too  that  dogs  and  horfes  faw  the  ghofts  of  the  deceafed. 

C  3  a  hun- 


zi  t    I    N    G    'A   L,  Book  I. 

a  hundred  hammers  that  :rife  by  turns  on  the 
yed'fon  of  the  furnace. 

Who  are  thefe  on  Lena's  heath  that  are  fo 
gloomy  and  dark  ?  Who  are  thefe  like  two 
clouds  *,  and  their  fwords  like  lightning  above 
tkcm  ?  The  little  hills  arc  troubled  around,  and 

the  rocks  tremble  with  all  their  mofs. Who 

is  it  but  Ocean's  fon  and  the  car-borne  chief  of 
Erin?  Many  are  the  anxious  eyes  of  their 
friends,  as  they  fee  them  dim  on  the  heath. 
Now  night  conceals  the  chiefs  in  her  clouds, 
and  ends  the  terrible  fight. 

It  was  on  Cromla's  fhaggy  fide  that  Dorglas 
placed  the  deer  f ;  the  early  fortune  of  the  chace, 

before  the   heroes  left  the  hill. A  hundred 

youths  colle6t  the  heath  j  ten  hero<Ts  blow  the 
£re  ',  three  hundred  chufe  the  polifh'd  ft  ones. 
The  feaft  is  fmoaking  wide. 

*  As  when  two  black  clouds 
^  With  heaven's  artillery  fraught,  come  rattling  on 
"    Over  the  Cafpian.  Milton, 

-j"  The  ancient  manner  of  preparing  feafts  after  hunting,  is 

handed  down  by  tradition. A  pit  lined  with  fmooih  Hones 

was  made;  and  near  it  flood  a  heap  of  fmooth  flat  Hones  of  the 
,  ^int  kind.  T  he  ftones  as  well  as  tiie  pit  were  properly  heated 
wjth  heath.  Then  they  laid  fome  venifon  in  the  bottom,  and  a 
llratum  pf  the  ftones  above  it;  and  thus  they  did  alternately  till 
the  pit  was  full.  7  he  wiiole  was  covered  over  with  heath  to 
confine  the  fleam.  Whether  this  is  probable  I  cannot  fay  ;  but 
fome  pits  are  fhewii,  which  the  vulgar  fay,  were  ufed  in  that 
rnannef. 

*  CUCH- 


^0-K  I;     An  'eP'i  c  p  a  E  M.  '  *| 

CiJCHULLiN,  chief  of  Erin's  war,  refumed 
his  mighty  foul.  He  flood  upon  his  beamy 
fpear,  and  fpoke  to  the  fon  of  fongs  ;  to  Carril 
of  other  times,  the  gray-haired  fon  of  Kin^ 
fena  *.  Is  this  feaft  fpread  for  me  alone  and 
the  king  of  Lochlin  on.UUin's  lliore,  far  from 
the  deer  of  his  hills,  and  founding  halls  of  his 
feafts  ?  Rife,  Carril  of  other  times,  and  carry 
my  words  to  Swaran  ;  tell  him  that  came  from 
the  roaring  of  waters,  that  CuchuUin  gives  his 
feaft.     Here  let  him  liften  to  the  found  of  my 

groves  amidft  the  clouds  of  night. For  cold 

and  bleak  the  bluftering  winds  rufli  over  the 
foam  of  his  feas.  Here  let  himpraife  the  trem- 
bling harp,  and  hear  the  fongs  of  heroes. 

Old  Carril  went,  with  fofteft  voice,  and  call- 
ed the  king  of  dark-brown  fliields.  Rife  from 
the  fkins   of  thy  chace,  rife,  Swaran  king  of 

groves. CuchuUin  gives  the  joy   of  IhellS} 

partake  the  feaft  of  Erin's  blue-eyed  chief. '••^''^ 

He  anfwered  like  the  fullen  found  of  Cromla 
before  a  ftorm.  Though  all  thy'  daughters, 
Innis-fail !  ihould  extend  their  arms  of  fnow ; 
raife  high  the  heavings  of  their  breads,  and 
foftly  roll  their  eyes  of  love  -,  yet,  fixed  as  Loch- 
lin's   thoufand  rocks,    here  Swaran    Ihall   re- 

•  Cean-feana,  /,  e.  the  head  of  th;  teople. 

>«i  C4  maini 


24  F    I    N    G    A    L,         Book  I. 

main  j  till  morn,  with  the  young  beams  of  my 
caft,  lliall  light  me  to  the  death  of  CuchuUin. 
Plea  fan  t  to  my  ear  is  Lochlin's  wind.  It  rulhes 
over  my  feas.  It  fpeaks  aloft  in  all  my  llirowds, 
and  brings  my  green  forefts  to  my  mind  j  the 
green  forefts  of  Gormal  that  often  echoed  to 
my  winds,  when  my  fpear  was  red  in  the  chacc 
of  the  boar.  Let  dark  Cuchullin  yield  to  me 
the  ancient  throne  of  Cormac,  or  Erin's  tor- 
rents Ihall  lliew  from  their  hills  the  red  foam  of 
the  blood  of  his  pride. 

Sad  is  the  found  of  Swaran's  voice,  faid  Car^ 
ril  of  other  times  ; 

Sad  to  himfelf  alone,  faid  the  blue-eyed  fon 
of  Semo.  But,  Carril,  raife  thy  voice  on  high, 
and  tell  the  deeds  of  other  times.  Send  thou 
the  night  away  in  fong;  and  give  the  joy  of 
grief.  For  many  heroes  and  maids  of  love 
have  moved  on  Jnnis-fail.  And  lovely  are  the 
fongs  of  woe  that  are  heard  on  Albion's  rocks ; 
when  the  noife  of  the  chace  is  over,  and  the 
ftreams  of  Cona  anfwcr  to  the  voice  of  Offian  *. 


•  Offian  the  Ton  of  Fin;jal  and  author  of  the  poem.  One 
cannot  but  admire  the  addrefs  of  ihe  poet  in  putting  his  own 
prai/e  fo  naturally  into  the  mouth  of  Cuchullin.  The  Cona  here 
mentioned  i«  perhaps  that  fmall  river  th^t  run-'  through  Glenco 
it  Argylefhire.  One  of  the  hills  which  environ  thai  romantic 
V»  ley  is  ilill  called  Scorna-fena,  or  the  hijl  of  i  Irgal's  people. 

In 


Book  I.      An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  25 

In  other  days  *,  Carril  replirs,  came  the  fons 
of  Ocean  to  Erin.  A  thoufand  veflels  bounded 
over  the  waves  to  UlUn's  lovely  plains.  The 
fons  of  Innis-fail  arofe  to  meet  the  race  of  dark- 
brown  fhields.  Cairbar,  firft  of  men,  was  there, 
and  Grudar,  ftately  youth.  Long  had  they 
ftrove  for  the  fpotted  bull,  that  lowed  on  Gol- 
bun's  f  echoing  heath.  Each  claimed  him  as 
his  own  i  and  death  was  often  at  the  point  of 
their  fteel. 

Side  by  fide  the  heroes  fought,  and  the  ftran- 
gers  of  Ocean  fled.  Whofe  name  was  fairer  on 
the  hill  than  the  name  of  Cairbar  and  Grudar  1 

But  ah  !  why  ever  lowed  the  bull  on  Gol- 

bun's  echoing  heath  ?  They  faw  him  leaping 
like  the  fnow.  The  wrath  of  the  chiefs  re- 
turned. 

On  Lubar's  if  grafly  banks  they  fougiit,  and 
Grudar  like  a  fu^-beam,  fell.  Fierce  Cairbar 
came  to  the  vale  of  the  echoing  Tura,  where 

•  This  epilbde  is  introduced  with  propriety.  Calmar  and 
(  onnal,  two  of  the  Irifh  heroes,  had  dilputed  warmly  before 
the  battle  about  engaging  the  enemy.  Carril  endeavours  to  re- 
concile them  with  the  ftory  of  Caii  bar  and  Grudar ;  who,  tho* 
enemies  before,  fought  Jt</c  by  JiJe  in  the  war.  The  poet  ob- 
tained his  aim,  for  we  find  Calmar  and  Connal  pcrfeftly  recon> 
died  in  the  third  booic. 

f  Golb-bhean,  as  well  as  Cromleach,  fignifies  a  crooked  bill. 
It  is  here  the  name  of  a  mountain  in  the  county  of  Sligo. 

X  Lubar—- a  river  in  UUler.     Labhar^  loud,  noify. 

BrafTolis, 


i6  F    I   N    G    A    L,         BooKfi 

BrafToHs*,  faireft  of  his  fillers,  all  alone,  raifed 
the  fong  of  grief.     She  fang  of  the  a(5lions  of 

Grudar,  the  youth  of  her  fecret  foul. ^She 

mourned  him  in  the  field  of  blood ;  but  ftill  fhe 
hoped  for  his  return.  Her  white  bofom  is  feen 
from  her  robe,  as  the  moon  from  the  clouds  of 
night.  Her  voice  was  fofter  than  the  harp  to 
raife  the  fong  of  grief.     Her  foul  was  fixed  on 

Grudar  $  the  fecret  look  of  her  eye  was  his. 

When  ihalt  thou  come  in  thine  arms,  thou 
mighty  in  the  war  ? 

Take,  Braflblis,  Cairbar  came  and  faid, 
take,  Braflblis,  this  fhield  of  blood.  Fix  it  on 
high  within  my  hall,  the  armour  of  my  foe. 
Her  foft  heart  beat  againft  her  fide.  Diftra6led, 
pale,  fhe  flew.  She  found  her  youth  in  all  his 
blood  ;  fhe  died  on  Cromla's  heath.  Here  refts 
their  dull,  CuchuUin;  and  thcfe  two  lonely 
yews,  fprung  from  their  tombs,  with  to  meet  on 
high.  Fair  was  BraflTolis  on  the  plain,  and 
Grudar  on  the  hill.  The  bard  lliall  prefervc 
their  names,  and  repeat  them  to  future  times. 

Pleasant   is  thy  voice,  O  Carril,  faid   the~ 
blue-eyed   chief  of  Erin  ;   and  lovely  are   the 
words  of  other  times.     They  are  like  the  calm 

•  Braffolis  fignlfies  a  'woman i^iib  a  ivbitt  brefji. 

,  ,    ^,     .,     ihower 


Book  I.      Ai?   E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  27 

fhower  *  of  fpring,  when,  the  fun  looks  on  the 
field,  and  the  light  cloud  flies  over  the  hills. 
O  ftrike  the  harp  in  ,  praife  of  my  love,  the- 
lonely  fun-beam  of  DunfcRich.  Strike  the  harp 
in  the  praife  of  Bragela  f ,  of  her  that  I  left 
in  the  lile  of  Mift,  the  fpoufc  of  Semo's  fon. 
Doft  thou  raife  thy  fair  face  from  the  rock  to 
find  the  fails  of  Cuchullin? I'he  fea  is  roll- 
ing far  dif^ant,  and  its  white  foam  -Jhall  deceive 
thee  for  my  fails.  Retire,  for  it  is  night,  my 
love,  and  the  dark  winds  figh  in  thy  hair.  Re- 
tife  to  tlie  halls  of  my  fcafts,  and  think  oF  the 
times  that  are  pafl :  for  I  w  ill  not  return  till  the 
florm  of  war  is  ccafed.  O  Connal,  fpeak  of 
wars  and  arms,  and  fend  her  from  my  mind, 
for  lovely  with  her  raven-hair  is  the  white-bo - 
fomed  daughter  of  Sorglan. 

*  Homer  compares  foft  piercing  words  to  the  fall  of  fnow. 

But  when  he  fpeaks,  what  elocution  flows! 

Like  the  fofc  fleeces  of  defcending  fnows.  Pope. 

t  Brageia  was  the  daughter  of  Sorglan,  and  the  wife  of 
Cuchullin — Cuchullin,  upon  the  death  of  Artlio,  fupreme  king 
of  Ireland,  pafTed  over  into  Ireland,  probably  by  Fingal's  order, 
to  take  upon  him  the  adminiftration  of  affairs  in  that  kingdom 
during  the  minority  of  Coimac  ihc  Ion  of  Artho.  He  left  his 
wife  Brageia  in  Dunfcaich,  the  feat  of  the  family,  in  ihe  ifle  of 
Sky,  where  the  remains  of  his  palace  is  ftill  fliewn;  and  a  llone, 
to  which  he  bound  his  dcg  Lualh,  gees  Aiil  by  his  name. 

CoNNAL, 


28  F    I    N    G    A    L.        Book  I. 

CoNNAL,  flow  to  fpeak,  replied,  Guard 
againft  the  race  of  Ocean.  Send  thy  troop  of 
night  abroad,  and  watch  the  ftrength  of  Swa- 

ran. Cuchullin !  I  am  for  peace  till  the  race 

of  the  defart  come  5  till  Fingal  come,  the  firft 
of  men,  and  beam,  like  the  fun,  on  our  fields. 

The  hero  f^ruck  the  fhield  of  his  alarms 

the  warriors  of  the  night  moved  on.  The  refl 
lay  in  the  heath  of  the  deer,  and  flept  amidft 

the  duiky  wind. The  ghofts  *  of  the  lately 

dead  were  near,  and  fwam  on  gloomy  clouds. 
And  far  diflant,  in  the  dark  filence  of  Lena, 
the  feeble  voices  of  death  were  heard. 

•  It  was  long  the  opinion  of  the  ancient  Scots,  that  a  ghoft 
was  heard  ftirieking  near  the  place  where  a  death  was  to  happen 
foon  after.  The  accounts  given,  to  this  day,  among  the  vul- 
gar, of  this  extraordinary  matter,  are  very  poetical.  The  ghoft 
comes  mounted  on  a  meteor,  and  furrounds  twice  or  thrice  the 
place  deftined  for  the  perfon  to  die;  and  then  goes  along  the 
road  through  which  the  funeral  is  to  pafs,  fhrieking  at  intervals  ; 
»t  laft,  the  meteor  and  ghoft  difappear  above  the  burial  place. 


FINGAL, 


F    I    N     G    A     L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


BOOK    H. 


ARGUMENT    to    Book  II. 

'The  ghq/l  of  Crugal,  one  of  the  Irijh  heroes  who 
was  killed  in  battle,  appearing  to  Connal,  fore^ 
tels  the  defeat  of  Ciichullin  in  the  next  battle ; 
and  earnejily  advifes  him  to  make  peace  with 
'  Sivaran.  Connal  communicates  the  "oifion-,  but 
GuchuUin  is  injlexible-^from  a  principle  of  honour; 

^oift  would  "not  be  the'^^fft  to  fu^fkr  pea&e-,  and  /ti 
refolved  to  -contiiiue  the  war.  Morniiig  comes  j 
Swaran  prcpof^s  cjijhonojirqble  terms  to  Cuchullin, 
which  are  rejc^ed.  The  battle  begins,  a?id  is 
ohfiinately  fought  for  fome  time,  until,  upon  the 
jUgkt  ofOrumflf  th^ivhole  'hs/h  acmygave  way. 
CuchuUin  and  Connal  cover  their  retreat :  Carril 
leads  them  to  a  neighbouring  hill,  whither  they 
are  foon  follo'-jojed  by^CiiUihullinJiimfelf,  who  de- 
fries  the  fleet  of  Fingal  making  towards  the 
coaji ;  but,  iiight  coming  on,  he  lojl  fight  of  it 
again.  CuchuUin,  dejeSled  after  his  defeat,  at- 
tributes his  ill  fuccefs  to  the  death  of  Ferda  his 
friend,  whom  he  had  killed  fome  time  before. 
Carril,  to  fhew  that  ill  fuccefs  did  not  always  at- 
tend thofe  zvho  innocently  killed  their  friends,  in- 
troduces the  epifode  of  ~ Comal  and  Gahina. 


n 


[    3»    ] 


I  ;JN    G    A    E, 

•-^A^'-  ANCIENT  -^^'■"•'^ 

E.  P  al-C     P  O  E  M.- 

.;■_   •■.:.!.j:   u:'j   I3>  ^  ;v;^!j-i'  J-    i^o^iu    lift  ^ 

In    SIX    B  O  0  K  S.  1  ii^^  ^H 

-i 

BOOK     II.  't 

/^ONN  AL  *  lay  by  the  found  of  the  moun- 
^^  tain  ftream,  beneath  the  aged  tree.  A 
ftone,  with  its  mofs,  fupported  his  head.    Shrill 

thro' 

*  The  fcene  of  Connal's  repofe  is  familiar  to  thofe  who  have 
been  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  The  poet  removes  him  to  a 
jdiftance  from  the  army,  to  add  more  horror  to  the  defcription  of 
Crugal's  ghoft  by  the  loneh'nefs  of  the  place.  It  perhaps  will 
not  be  difagreeabic  to  the  reader,  to  fee  how  two  other  ancient 
poets  handled  a  fimilar  fubjeft. 

TLarr  ecvru  ftiytQcj  Ti  xai  ouasra  koct  tlxvTct- 

Kut  (pom,   Sec.  ^  HoM.  II.  23. 

When  lo  !  the  ftiade,  before  his  clofing  eyes. 

Of  fad  Patroclus  rofe  or  feem'd  to  rife, 

In  the  fame  robe  he  living  wore,  he  came 

In  ftature,  voice,  and  pleafing  look  the  fame. 

The  form  familiar  hover'd  o'er  his  head. 

And  fleeps  Achilles  thus  ?  the  phantom  faid.  PoPi. 

Infomnis  ecce  ante  oculos  ma^jiijpmus  HeSlor 

Vifui  addejfe  mihi,  largofque  effundere  fletus ^ 

Raptatui  higiSf  ut  quondam^  aterque  cruento 

Puhne  ftrque  ftdii  trajdlmhra  tumtntcs. 


32  F    I    N    G    A    L,         Book  IT. 

tliro'  the  heath  of  Lena,  he  heard  the  voice  of 
night.  At  diftance  from  the  heroes  he  lay,  for 
the  fon  of  the  fword  feared  no  foe. 

My  hero  faw  in  his  reft  a  dark- red  ftream 
of  iire  coming  down  from  the  hilL  Crugal 
iat  upon  the  beam,  a  chief  that  lately  fell. 
He  fell  by  the  hand  of  Swaran,  driving  in  the 
battle  of  heroes.  His  face  is  like  the  beam  of 
the  fetting  moon  i  his  robes  are  of  the  clouds 
ff  the  hill :  his  eyes  are  like  two  decaying 
flames.     Dark  is  the  wound  of  his  breaft. 

Crugal,  faid  the  mighty  Connal,  fon  of 
Dedgal  famed  on  the  hill  of  deer.  Why  fo 
pale  and  fad,    thou   breaker   of  the  Ihields  ? 

Set  mihi  ^uahs  erat !    quantum  mutatus  ah  ilU 

HeSore,  qui  redit  exu-viis  indutus  AchtUiy 

Vtl  Danauin  Pkrygios  jaculatus  puppibus  ignes\ 

Squaltntem  barbam  fif  concrelOi,fa>tguine  crines 

VulAtra^ue  ilia  gerem  qua  circum  plurima  muras 

AtUtp'it patrios.  Mn.  lib.  2. 

When  Heftor's  ghoft  before  my  Aght  appears : 
A  bloody  (hroud  he  feem'd,  and  bath'd  in  tears. 
Such  as  he  was,  when,  by  Pelides  flain,  ' 

1  heflalian  courfers  drag'd  him  o'er  the  plain. 
Swoln  were  his  feet,  as  when  the  thongs  were  thruft 
Through  the  bcr'd  holes,  his  body  black  with  duft. 
Unlike  that  Heflor,  who  return'd  from  toils 
Of  war  triumphant,  in  Mzchn  fpoils: 
Or  him,  who  made  the  fainting  Greeks  retire. 
And  launched  againft  their  navy  Phrygis*;  fire. 
His  hair  and  beard  flood  ftiffen'd  with  his  gore ; 
And  all  the  wounds  he  for  his  country  bore.         Drydem, 

Thou 


BookIL        An    epic    POEM.  33 

Thou  haft  never  been  pale  for  fear. What 

difturbs  the  fon  of  the  hill  ? 

Dim,  and  in  tears,  he  ftood  and  ftretched 
his  pale  hand  over  the  hero. — — Faintly  he 
raifed  his  feeble  voice,  like  the  gale  of  the  reedy 
Lego. 

X  My  ghoft,  O  Connal,  is  on  my  native  hills ; 
but  my  corfe  is  on  the  fands  of  Ullin.  Thou 
fhalt  never  talk  with  Crugal,  or  find  his 
lone  fteps  in  the  heath.  I  am  light  as  the  blaft 
of  Cromla,  and  I  move  like  the  fhadow  of  mift. 
Connal^  fon  of  Colgar  *,  I  fee  the  dark  cloud 
of  death  :  it  hovers  over  the  plains  of  Lena. 
The   fons    of  green   Erin    Ihall   fall.     Remove 

from  the  field  of  gliofts. Like  the  darkened 

moon  't'  he  retired,  in  the  midft  of  the  whittling 
blaft. 

Stay,  faid  the  mighty  Connal,  ftay  my 
dark-red  friend.  Lay  by  that  beam  of  heaven, 
fon  of  the  windy  Cromla.  What  cave  of  the 
hill  is  thy  lonely   houfc  ?    What  green-headed 

•  Connal  the  fon  of  Caithbat,  the  friend  of  Cuchullin,  is 
fometimes,  as  here,  called  the  foa  of  Colgar;  from  one  of  that 
name  who  was  the  founder  of  h  s  family. 

fi%:To  riT^iyvTcx,  HOM.  II.  23.   V.  ICO. 

Like  a  thin  finokc  he  fees  the  fpirit  fly. 

And  hears  a  feeble,  lamentable  cry.  Fopb. 

D  hill 


34  F    I    N    G    A   L,         ^ook  XI. 

hill  is  the  place  of  thy  reft  ?  Shall  we  not  hear 
thee  in  the  ftorm  ?  In  the  noife  of  the  moun- 
tain-ftream  ?  When  the  feeble  fons  of  the  wind 
come  forth,  and  ride  on  the  blaft  of  the  defart. 
The  foft-voiced  Connal  rofe  in  the  midft  of 
his  founding  arms.  He  ftruck.  his  Ihield  above 
Cuchullin.     The  {on  of  battle  waked. 

Why,  faid  the  ruler  of  the  car,  comes  Con- 
nal through  the  night  ?  My  fpcar  might  turn 
againft  the  found ;  and  Cuchullin  mourn  the 
death  of  his  friend.  Speak,  Connal,  fon  of 
Colgar,  fpcak,  thy  counfel  is  like  the  fon  of 
heaven. 

Son  of  Semo,  replied  the  chief,  the  ghoft  of 

Crugal  came  from  the  cave  of  his  hill. The 

ftars  dim-twinkled  through  his  form  -,  and  his 
voice  was   like   the  found  of  a  diftant  ftream. 

He  is  a  meflcnger  of  death. He  fpeaks 

of  the  dark  and  narrow  houfe.  Sue  for  peace, 
O  chief  of  Dunfcaich ;  or  fly  over  the  heath 
of  Lena. 

He  fpoke  to  Connal,  replied  the  hero,  though 
flars  dim-twinkled  through  his  form.  Son  of 
Colgar,  it  was  the  wind  that  murmured  in  the 

caves  of  Lena. Or  if  it  was  the  form  *  of 

Crugal, 

*  The  poet  teaches  us  the  opinions  that  prevailed  In  his  time 
concerning  the  ftate  of  feparate  fouls.     From  Connal's  expreffion» 

'•  That 


Book  If.      An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  g^ 

Crugal,  why  didft  thou  not  force  him  to  my 
fight.  Haft  thou  enquired  where  is  his  cave  ? 
The  houfe  of  the  fon  of  the  wind  ?  My  fword 
might  find  that  voice,  and  force  his  knowledge 
from. him.  And  fmall  is  his  knowledge,  Con- 
nal,  for  he  was  here  to-day.  He  could  not 
have  gone  beyond  our  hills,  and  who  could  tell 
him  there  of  our  death  ? 

Ghosts  "fly  on  clouds  and  ride  on  winds, 
faid  Connal's  voice  of  wifdom.  They  reft  to- 
gether in  their  caves,  and  talk  of  mortal  men. 

Then  let  them  talk  of  mortal  men  ;  of  every 
iBan  but  Erin's  chief.     Let  me  be  forgot  in  their 

cave  ;  for  I  will  not  fly  from  Swaran.— If  I 

muft  fall,  my  tomb  lliall  rife  amidft  the  fame  of 
future  times.  The  hunter  iliall  Ihed  a  tear  on 
my  ftone ;  and  forrow  dwell  round  the  high- 
bofomed  Bragela.  I  fear  not  death,  but  I  fear 
to  fly,  for  Fingal  faw  me  often  victorious. 
Thou  dim  phantom  of  the  hill,  Ihew  thyfelf 
to  me !  Come  on  thy  beam  of  heaven,  and  fhew 
me  my  death  in  thine  hand ;  yet  will  1  not  fly, 
thou  feeble  fon  of  the  wind.  Go,  fon  of  Col- 
gar,  ftrike  the  ftiicld  of  Caithbat,  it  hangs  be- 

«'  That  the  ftars  dim-twinkled  through  the  form  of  Crugal,'* 
and  CiKhulIIn's  reply,  we  may  gather  that  they  both  thought 
the  foul  was  material ;  fomething  like  the  tl^uT^*  of  the  ancient 

Greeks. 

P  2  twcen 


36  F    I    N    G    A    L,  Book  11. 

tween  the  fpears.  Let  my  heroes  rife  to  the 
found  in  the  midft  of  the  battles  of  Erin. 
Though  Fingal  delays  his  coming  with  the  racp 
of  the  ftormy  hills  j  we  Ihall  fight,  O  Colgar's 
fon,  and  die  in  the  battle  of  heroes. 

The  found  fpreads  widej  the  heroes  rife, 
like  the  breaking  of  a  blue-rolling  wave.  They 
flood  on  the  heath,  like  oaks  with  all  their 
branches  round  them  * ;  when'  they  eccho  to 
the  ftream  of  frofl,  and  their  withered  leaves 
ruftle  to  the  wind. 

High  Cromla's  head  of  clouds  is  gray  ;  the 
morning  trembles  on  the  half-enlightened  ocean. 
The  blue,  gray  mift  fvvims  flowly  by,  and  hides 
the  fons  of  Innis-fall. 

Risz  ye,  faid  the  king  of  the  dark-brown 
ihields,    ye   that  came   from   Lochlin's  waves. 

The  fons  of  Erin  have  fled  from  our  arms 

purfue  them  over  the  plains  of  Lena. And, 

Moria,  go  to  Cormac's  hall  and  bid  them  yield 
to  Swaran  ;    before  the  people  Ihall  fall  into  the 

tomb  J    and   the   hills  of  UUin   be    filcnt. 

They   rofe  like  a   flock   of  fea-fowl  when   the 
waves  expel  them  from  the  fliore.     Their  found 

.  *         ———As  wiien  heaven's  fire 


Hath  Tcath'd  the  forell  oaks,  or  inountain  pines 
With  fmgcd  tops,  their  frately  <;rovvth  tho'  bare 
Stand  on  tije  blalied  heath.  Milxok. 

4  was 


Book  II.       An    EPIC    POEM.  37 

was  like  a  thoufand  ftreams  that  meet  in  Cona*s 
vale,  when  after  a  ftormy  night,  they  turn  their 
dark  eddies  beneath  the  pale  light  of  the  morn- 
ing. 

As  the  dark  fhades  of  autumn  fly  over  the 
hills  of  grafs ;  fo  gloomy,  dark,  fucceflive  came 
the  chiefs  of  Lochlin's  echoing  woods.  Tall 
as  the  Jftag  of  Morven  moved  on  the  king  of 
groves.  His  Ihining  fhield  is  on  his  fide  like  a 
flame  on  the  heath  at  night,  when  the  world  is 
filent  and  dark,  and  the  traveller  fees  fome  ghoft 
fporting  in  the  beam. 

A  BLAST  from  the  troubled  ocean  removed 
the  fettled  niift.  The  fons  of  Innis-fail  appear 
like  a  ridge  of  rocks  on  the  fhore. 

Go,  Moria,  go,  faid  Lochlin's  king,  and 
offer  peace  to  thefc.  Offer  the  terms  we  give  to 
kings  when  nations  bow  before  us.  When  the 
valiant  arc  dead  in  war,  and  the  virgins  weep- 
ing on  the  field. 

Great  Morla  came,  the  {on  of  Swart,  and 
ftately  f^rodc  the  king  of  Ihields.  He  fpokc  to 
Erin's  blue-eyed  fon,  among  the  IcfTer  heroes. 

Take  Swaran's  peace,  the  warrior  fpokc,  the 
peace  he  gives  to  kings,  when  the  nations  bow 
before  him.  Leave  Ullin's  lovely  plains  to  us> 
and  give  thy  fpoufe  and  day-  Thy  fpoufc 
high-bofom'd    heaving    fair.        Thy    dog    that 

D   3  over- 


^g  .   F    I    N    G    A    L,  Book  II. 

overtakes  the  wind.  Give  thefe  to  prove  the 
weaknefs  of  thine  arm,  and  live  beneath  our 
power. 

Tell  Swaran,  tell  that  heart  of  pride,  that 
CuchuUin  never  yields. — -. — 1  give  him  the  dark- 
blue  rolling  of  ocean,  or  I  give  his  people  graves 
in  Erin  !  Never  Ihall  a  ftranger  have  the  lovely 
fun-beam  of  Dunfcaich ;  nor  ever  deer  fly 
on  Lochlin's  hills  before  the  nimble-footed 
Luath. 

Vain  ruler  of  the  car,  faid  Morla,  wilt  thou 
fight, the  king  ;  that  king  whofe  Ihips  of  many 
groyes  could  carry  off  thine  Ifle  ?  So  little  is 
thy  green-hilled  Ullin  to  the  king  of  flormy 
waves. 

In  words  I  yield  to  many,  Morla ;  but  this 
fword  fhall  yield  to  none.  Erin  fhall  own  the 
fway  of  Cormac,  while  Connal  and  CuchuUin 
live.  O  Connal,  firl^  of  mighty  men,  thou  hafl 
heard  the  words  of  Morla  j  lliall  thy  thoughts 
then  be  of  peace,  thou  breaker  of  the  fhields  ? 
Spirit  of  fallen  Crugal !  why  didfl  thou  threaten 
us  with  death  ?    The  narrow  houfe  fhall  receive 

me  in  the  midfl  of  the   light  of  renown.- 

Exalt,  ye  fons  of  Innis-fail,  exalt  the  fpcar  and 
bend  the  bowj  rulli  on  the  foe  in  darknefs,  as 
the  fpirits  of  ftormy  nights. 

Then 


BbdK  IK      An    E  P I  C    POEM.  39 

^HEN  difmal,  roaring,  fierce,  and  deep  the 
gloom  of  battle  rolled  along  ;  as  mift  *  that  is 
poured  on  the  valley,  when  ftorms  invade  the 
filent  fun-fhine  of  heaven.  The  chief  moves 
before  in  arms,  like  an  angry  ghoft  before  a 
cloud  i  when  meteors  inclofe  him  with  fire  j 
and  the  dark  winds  are  in  his  hand.— — Carril, 
far  on  the  heath,  bids  the  horn  of  battle  found. 
He  raifes  the  voice  of  the  fong,  and  pours  his 
foul  into  the  minds  of  heroes. 

Where,  faid  the  mouth  of  the  fong,  where 
is  the  fallen  Crugal  ?    He  lies  forgot  on  earth, 

and  the  hall  of  ibells  -f*  is  filent. -Sad  is  the 

fpoufe  of  Crugal,  for  Ihe  is  a  firanger  J  in  the 
hall  of  her  forrow.  But  who  is  fhc,  that,  like 
a  fun-beam,  flies  before  the  ranks  of  the  foe  ? 
It  is  Degrena  ||,  lovely  fair,  the  fpoufe  of  fallen 
Crugal.     Her  hair  is  on  the  wind  behind.     Her 

•         ■ As  evening  mift 


Ris'n  from  a  river  o'er  the  marifh  glides 
And  gathers  ground  faft  at  the  lab'rera  heel 
Homeward  returning  Milton. 

f  The  ancient  Scots,  as  well  as  theprefenthtghlanders,  drunk 
in  fhells ;  hence  it  is  that  we  fo  often  meet,  in  the  old  poetry, 
with  the  chief  ofjhellst  and  the  halls  efjhells. 

X  Crugal  had  married  Degrena  but  a  little  time  before  the 
battle,  confequently  (he  may  with  propriety  be  called  a  ftranger 
in  the  hall  of  her  forrow. 

1|  Dco-ghrcna  fignifies  z/un  beam, 

D  4  eye 


40  F    I    N    G    A    L,          Book  II. 

eye  is  red  j  her  voice  is  fhrill.  Green,  empty- 
is  thy.Crugal  now,  his  form  is  in  the  cave  of 
the  hill.  He  comes  to  the  ear  of  reft,  and  raifes 
his  feeble  voice  j  like  the  humming  of  the  moun- 
tain-bee, or  colleded  flies  of  evening.  But 
Degrena  falls  like  a  cloud  of  the  morn ;  the 
fword  of  Lochlin  is  in  her  fide.  Cairbar,  ihe 
is  fallen,  the  rifing,  thought  of  thy  youth.  She 
is  fallen,  O  Cairbar,  the  thought  of  thy  youth-» 
ful  hours. 

Fierce  Cairbar  heard  the  mournful  found, 
and  ruihed  on  like  ocean's  whale;  he  faw  the 
death  of  his  daughter ;  and  roared  in  the  midft 
of  thoufands  *.  His  fpear  met  a  fon  of  L>och- 
lin,  and  battle  fpread  from  wing  to  wing.  As 
a  hundred  wir^ds  in  Lochlin's  groves,  as  fire  in 
the  firs  of  a  hundred  hills ;  fo  loud,  fo  ruinous 

and  vaft  the  ranks  of   men  are  hewn  down. ' 

CuchuUin  cut  off  heroes  like  thiflles,  and  Swa- 
ran  wafted  Erin.  Curach  fell  by  his  hand,  and 
Cairbar  of  the  bofty  fhield.  Morglan  lies  in 
lafting  reft  j  and  Ca-olt  quivers  as  lie  dies.  His 
white  breaft  is  ftained  with  his  blood  ;  and  his 
yellow  hair  ftretched  in  the  duft  of  his  native 
land.  He  often  had  fpread  the  feaft  where  he 
fell  J  and   often  raifed  the  voice  of  the  harp : 

*  Medii/^ue  in  tnillihus  ardft*  ViRC 

when 


Book  II.       An    E  P I  C    P  O  E  M.  41. 

when  his  dogs  leapt  around  for  joy ;  and  the 
youths  of  the  chace  prepared  the  bow. 

Still  Swaran  advanced,  as  a  ftream  that 
burfts  from  the  defart.  The  little  hills  are  rolled 
in  its  courfe  j  and  the  rocks  half- funk  by  its  fide. 
But  Cuchuilln  flood  before  him  like  a  hill  *, 
that  catches  the  clouds  of  heaven.-— —The 
winds  contend  on  its  head  of  pines ;  and  the 
Kail  rattles  on  its  rocks.  But,  firm  in  its 
Hrength,  it  ftands  and  fhades  the  filent  vale  of 
Cona. 

So  Cuchullin  Ihaded  the.  fons  of  Erin,  and 
ftood  in   the  midft   of  thoufands.     Blood  rifes 
like  the  fount  of. a  rock,  from  panting  heroes 
arpund  him.     But  Erin  falls  on  either  wing  like  ^ 
fnow  in  the  day  of  the  fun.  - 

*  Virgil  and  Milton  have  made  ufe  of  a  comparifon  fimilar 
to  this ;   I  fhall  lay  both  before  the  reader,    and  let  him  judge 
for  himfelf  which  of  thefe  two  great  poets  havebeft  fucceedcd. 
^antus  4^hoSf  aut  quantuj  Eryx,  aut  ip/e  corv/cist 
Cum  fremit  ilicibus,  quantui  gaudetque  ni'vali 
Vertice  fe  at  to  liens  pater  Appeninus  ad  auras. 
Like  Eryx  or  like  Athos  great  he  fhews 
Or  father  Appcnine  when  white  with  fnowsj 
His  head  divine  obfcure  in  clouds  he  hides, 
And  (hakes  the  founding  foreft  on  his  fides.  DRyDEW, 

On  th'  other  fide  Satan  alarm'd, 
Colledlirg  all  his  might,  dilated  ftopd 
Like  Teneriff  or  Alias  unremov'd  : 
His  ftaturc  reach'd  the  flty.  MitTON. 

O  SON? 


44^  •  t    f  N    G   A   L,         Book  II? 

•O  's^'!ts  6f  Irtsi-M,  faid'  Grumal,  Lochliii' 
conquers  on  the  fidd*  Why  ftrivc  Vie  as  reedS' 
againft  the  Wind  ?  Fly  ta  tfee-  hill  of  dafk- 
browh  hinds.  He  fled  like-  the  ftag  of  Morveh;^ 
arid  hts  fpear  is  a  trembling  beam  of  light  be- ' 
hind-  him.  Few  fled- with  Grumal,  the  chief  of^ 
thf  Kttfe~foul :  they  fell  in  the  battle  of  heroc^^' 
on  Lena's  echoing  heath. 

High  on  his  car,  of  many  gems,  the  chief- 
of  Eriii  flood  ;  he  flew  a  mighty  fon  cf-  Loch-'" 
lin,  and  fpoke,  in  hafte,  to  CornaL  O  Coii-*^ 
i^I,  iirft  of  liiortal  men,  thou  haft  taught  this 
arrn  of  death  ^  Though  Erin's  fons  have  fledi"^ 
fli'air  we  not  fight  the  foe?  G  Carrilj  fon  of  ^ 
oth^r  times,   carry  my  living  friends  to   that 

bulhy   hill. Here,    Connal,    let    us    ftand 

like  rocks,  and  fave  our  flying  friends. 

'  Connal  mounts  the  car  of  light.  They 
firetch  their  fliields  like  the  darkened  moon, 
the  daughter  of  the  flarry  fkies,  when  fhe  moves, 
a  dun  circle,  through  heaven.  SIthfadda  pant- 
ed up  the  hill,  and  Dufronnel  haughty  fleed. 
Like  waves  behind  a  whale  behind  them  rulhed 
the  foe. 

Now  on  the  rifing  fide  of  Cromla  flood  Erin's 
few  fad  fons  ;  like  a  grove  through  which  the 
flame  had   rulhed  hurried  on  by  the  winds  of 

the  flormy  night. Cuchullin  flood  befide  an 

oak. 


Book  II.     An    EPIC   POEM.  41- 

oak.  He  rolled  his  red  eye  in  lilence,  alid 
heard  the  wind  in  his  bufhy  hair  ;  when  the 
fcout  of  ocean  came,  Moran  the  fon  of  Fithil. 
The  fhips,  he  cried,  the  Ihips  of  the  lonely^ 
ifle  !  There  Fingal  comes,  the  firft  of  men,  the 
breaker  of  the  Ihields.  The  waves  foam  before 
his  black  prows.  His  mafts  with  flils  are  like 
groves  in  clouds. 

Blow,  faid  Cuchullin,  all  ye  winds  thatrufh 
over  my  ille  of  lovely  mift.  Come  to  the  death 
of  thoufands,  O  chief  of  the  hills  of  hinds.  Thy 
fails,  my  friend,  are  to  me  like  the  clouds  of 
the  morning;  and  thy  ihips  like  the  light  of 
lieaven;  and  thou  thyfelf  like  a  pillar  of  fire 
that  giveth  light  in  the  night.  O  Connal,  firft 
of  men,  how  pleafant  are  our  friends  !  But  the 
night  is  gathering  around  ;  where  now  are  the 
fhips.  of  Fingal  ?  Here  let  us  pafs  the  hours  of 
darknefs,  and  wifh  for  the  moon  of  heaven. 

The  winds  came  down  on  the  woods.  The 
torrents  rufhed  from  the  rocks.  Rain  gathered 
round  the  head  of  Cromla.  And  the  red  ftars 
trembled  between  the  flying  clouds.  Sad,  by 
the  fide  of  a  fiream  whofe  found  was  echoed  by 
a  tree,  fad  by  the  fide  of  a  fiream  the  chief  of 
Erin  fat.  Connal  fon  of  Colgar  was  there,  and 
Carril  of  other  times. 

Unhappy 


44  F   I    N    G   A'  L,        Book  II. 

Unhappy  is  the  hand  of  Cuchullin,  faid  the 
fon  of  Semo,  unhappy  is  the  hand  of  Cuchullin 

lince  he  flew  his  friend. ^Ferda,  thou  fon  of 

Damman,  I  loved  thee  as  myfelf. 

How,  Cuchullin,  fon  of  Semo,  fell  the  breaker 
of  the  Ihields  ?  Well  I  remember,  faid  Connal, 
the  noble  fon  of  Damman.  Tall  and  fair  he  was 
like  the  rain-bow  of  the  hill. 

-Ferda  from  Albion  came,  the  chief  of  a 
hundred  hills.  In  Muri's  *  hall  he  learned  the 
fword,  and  won  the  friendfhip  of  Cuchullin. 
We  moved  to  the  chace  together  j  and  one  was 
our  bed  in  the  heath. 

Deugala  was  the  fpoufe  of  Cairbar,  chief 
of  the  plains  of  Ullin.  She  was  covered  with  the- 
light  of  beauty,  but  her  heart  was  the  houfe  of 
pride.  She  loved  that  fun -beam  of  youth,  the- 
noble  fon  of  Damman.  Cairbar,  faid  the  white- 
armed  woman,  give  me  half  of  the  herd.  No 
more  I  will  remain  in  your  halls.  Divide  the 
herd,  dark  Cairbar. 

•  Miiri,  fay  the  Irilh  bards,  was  an  academy  in  Ulfter  for 
teaching  the  qfe  of  arms.  The  fignification  of  the  word  is  a 
clufter  of  people ;  which  renders  the  opinion  probable.  Cuchullin 
is  faid  to  have  been  the  firft  who  introduced  into  Ireland  com- 
plete armour  of  fteel.  He  is  famous,  among  the  Senachies,  for 
teaching  horfemanlhip  to  the  Irifh,  and  for  being  the  firft  who 
tifed  a  chariot  in  that  kingdom  ;  which  laft  circumftance  was  she 
occafion  of  Offian's  being  fo  circumftantial  in  his  defciiption  of 
Cuchullin's  car,  in  the  iirll  book. 

Let 


Book  II.     An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M:  4^ 

.  Let  Cuchullin,  faid  Calrbar,  divide  my  herd 
on  the   hill.     His  breaft  is  the  feat  of  juflice. 

Depart,  thou  light  of  beauty. 1  went  and 

divided  the  herd.  One  fnow-white  bull  re- 
mained. I  gave  that  bull  to  Cairbar.  The 
wrath  of  Deugala  rofe. 

Son  of  Damman,  begun  the  fair,  Cuchullin 
pains  my  foul.  I  muft  hear  of  his  death,  or 
Lubar's  ftrcam  fhall  roll  over  me.  My  pale 
ghoft  Ihall  wander  near  thee,  and  mourn  the 
wound  of  my  pride.  Pour  out  the  blood  of 
Cuchullin  or  pierce  this  heaving  breaft. 

Deugala,  faid  the  fair-haired  youth,  how 
fliall  I  flay  the  fon  of  Semo  ?  He  is  the  friend  of 
my  fecret  thoughts,  and  fhall  I  lift  the  fword  ? 
She  wept  three  days  before  him,  on  the  fourth 
he  confcnted  to  fight. 

I  WILL  fight  my  friend,  Deugala  !  but  may  I 
fall  by  his  fword.  Could  I  wander  on  the  hill 
and  behold  the  grave  of  Cuchullin  ?  We  fought 
on  the  hills  of  Murl.  Our  fwords  avoid  a 
wound.  I'hcy  llirlc  on  the  helmets  of  fteclj  and 
found  on  the  llippery  ihiclds.  Deugala  was  near 
with  a  fmilc,  and  faid  to  the  fon  of  Damman, 
thine  arm  is  feeble,  tliou  fon-beam  of  yquth. 

Thy,  years  are  not  ftrong  for  llcel. —Yield  to 

the  fon  of  Scmo.     lie  is  like  the  rock  of  Mal- 
mor. 

TH£ 


46  F    I    N    G    A   L,         Book  It 

The  tear  is  in  the  eye  of  youth.  He  faulter^ 
ing  faid  to  me,  Cuchullin,  raife .  thy  bofly 
fhleld.  Defend  thee  from  the  hand  of  thy 
friend.  My  foul  is  laden  with  grief:  for  I  muft 
flay  the  chief  of  men. 

I  SIGHED  as  the  wind  in  the  chink  of  a  rock. 
I  lifted  high  the  edge  of  my  fteel.  The  fun- 
beam  of  the  battle  fell ;  the  firft  of  Cuchullin's 
friends. 

Unhappy  is  the  hand  of  Cuchullin  fince  the 
hero  fell. 

Mournful  is  thy  tale,  fon  of  the  car,  faid 
Carril  of  other  times.  It  fends  my  foul  back  to 
the  ages  of  old,  and  to  the  days  of  other  years. 

Often  have  I  heard  of  Comal  who  flew  the 

friend  he  loved  j  yet  vidory  attended  his  fteel  3 
and  the  battle  was  confumed  in  his  prefence. 

Comal  was  a  fon  of  Albion ;  the  chief  of  an 
hundred  hills.  His  deer  drunk  of  a  thoufand 
ftreams.  A  thoufand  rocks  replied  to  the  voice 
of  his  dogs.  His  face  was  the  mildnefs  of  youth. 
His  hand  the  death  of  heroes.  One  was  his  love, 
and  fiir  was  flie !  the  daughter  of  mighty  Con- 
loch.  She  appeared  like  a  fun-beam  among 
women.  And  hei*  hair  was  like  the  wing  of  the 
raven.  Her  dogs  were  taught  to  the  chace. 
Her  bow-ftring  founded  on  the  winds  of  the 
foreft.     Pier  foul  was  fixed  or^  Comal,     Often 

met 


Book  II.       An    EPIC    POEM.  ^ 

jiaet  their  eyes  of  bve.  Their  courfe  in  the 
ichace  was  one,  and  hapj)y  were  their  words  in 

fecret. But  Gormal  loved  the  maid,  tlie  dark 

chief  of  the  gloomy  Ardven.  He  watched  her 
lone  fteps  in  the  heath ;  the  foe  of  unhappy 
Comal. 

One  day,  tired  of  the  chace,  when  the  mill 
had  concealed  their  friends,  Comal  and  the 
daughter  of  Conloch  met  in  the, cave  of  Ronan  *- 
It  was  the  wonted  haunt  of  Comal.  Its  fides 
were  hung  with  his  arms.  A  hundred  ihields  of 
thongs  were  there;  a  hundred  helms  of  founding 
fleel. 

Rest  here,  he  faid,  my  love  Galvina ;  thou 
light  of  the  cave  of  Ronan.  A  deer  appears  on 
Mora's  brow.  I  go ;  but  1  will  foon  return. 
I  fear,  ihe  fald,  dark  Grumal  my  foe;  he  haunts 
tlic  cave  of  Ronan.  I  will  reft  among  the  arms ; 
but  foon  return,  my  love. 

*  The  unfortunate  death  of  this  Ronan  is  the  fubjefl  of  the 
ninth  fragment  of  ancient  poetry  publifticd  lad  year  ;  it  is  not 
the  work  of  OfHan,  though  it  is  writ  in  his  manner,  and  bears 
the  genuine  marks  of  antiquity. — The  concife  expreiHons  of 
Oflian  are  imitated,  but  the  thoughts  are  too  jejane  and  confined 
to  be  the  produftion  of  that  poet. — Many  poems  go  under  his 
name  that  have  been  evidently  compofed  fince  his  time ;  they 
are  very  numerous  in  Ireland,  and  fome  have  come  to  the  uanfla- 
tor's  hands.  They  are  trivial  and  dull  to  the  laft  degree  ;  fwell- 
ing  into  ridiculous  bomball,  or  (inking  into  the  iowell  kind  of 
profaic  ftylc. 

3"  K« 


48  F    I    N  G   A  L,        Book  U. 

He  went  to  the  deer  of  Mora.  The  daughter 
of  Conloch  would  try  his  love.  She  cloathed 
her  white  (ides  with  his  armour,  and  ilrode  from 
the  cave  of  Ronan.  He  thought  it  was  his  foe. 
His  heart  beat  high.  His  colour  changed,  and 
darknefs  dimmed  his  eyes.  He  drew  the  bow. 
The  arrow  flew.  Galvina  fell  in  blood.  He  run 
with  wildnefs  in  his  fteps  and  called  the  daughter 
of  Conloch.  No  anfwer  in  the  lonely  rock. 
Where  art  thou,  O  my  love  !  He  faw,  at  length, 
her  heaving  heart  beating  around  the  feathered 
dart.  O  Conloch's  daughter,  is  it  thou  ?  He 
funk  upon  her  breaft. 

The  hunters  found  the  haplefs  pair  ;  he  after- 
wards walked  the  hill.  But  many  and  filent  were 
his  fteps  round  the  dark  dwelling  of  his  love. 
The  fleet  of  the  ocean  came.  He  fought ;  the 
ftrangers  fled.  He  fearchcd  for  his  death  over 
the  field.  But  who  could  kill  the  mighty  Co- 
mal !  He  threw  away  his  dark-brown  fliield. 
An  arrow  found  his  manly  breaft.  He  fleeps 
with  his  loved  Galvina  at  the  noife  of  the  found- 
ing furge.  Their  green  tombs  are  feen  by  the 
mariner,  when  he  bounds  on  the  waves  of  the 
north. 


F  I  N  G   A  L, 


F    I    N     G    A    L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


BOOK    III. 


E 


ARGUMENT    to    Book  llL 

CuchuIIiny  pleafedwith  the  Jlory  of  Carril,  tnfijlswith 
that  hard  for  more  of  his  fongs.     He  relates  the  ac- 
tions of  Fin^al  in  Lochlin,  and  death  of  Agandecca 
the  beautiful  fifler  of  Swaran.     He  had  fear  ce  fi- 
nifhed  when  Calmar  the  fen  of  Mat  ha  ^  who  had 
advifed  the  firfi  battle^  came  wounded  from  the 
fields  and  told  them  of  Swaran* s  defign  to  furprife 
the  remains  of  the  Irijh  army.     He  himfelf  propofes 
to  withjland  Jingly  the  whole  force  of  the  enemy ^  in 
a  narrow  pafsy  till  the  Irijh  fhould  make  good  thdr 
retreat.     Cnchullin,  touched  with  the  gallant  pro- 
pofal  of  Calmar^  refohes  to  accompany  him,  and  or- 
ders Carril  to  carry  off  the  few  that  remained  of  the 
JriJJj,     Morning  comes ^  Calmar  dies  of  his  wounds  \ 
and,  the  fhips  of  the  Caledonians  appearing,  Swaran 
■  gives  over  the  purfuit  of  the  Irijh,  and  returns  to 
cppofe  Fingal*s  lafiding.     Cuchullin  afhamed,  after 
his  defeat,  to  appear  before  Fingal,  retires  to  the 
cave  of^ura.     Fingal  engages  the  enemy,  puts  them 
to  flight ;  hut  the  coming  on  of  night  makes  the  vie-* 
tory  not  decifive.     The  king,  who  had  obferved  the 
gallant  behaviour  of  his  grandfon  Ofcar,  gives  him 
advices  concerning  his  conduct  in  peace  and  war.    He 
recommends  to  him  to  place  the  example  of  his  fathers 
.  befcre  his  eyes,  as  the  beji  model  for  his  conduct ', 
which  introduces  the  epifode  concerning  Fainafollis, 
the  daughter  of  the  king  ofCraca,  whom  Fingal  had 
taken  under  his  prote^iion,  in  his  youth.     Fillan  and 
Ofcar  are  difpatched  to  ohferve  the  motions  of  the 
eneihy  by  night  -,  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni  defires  the 
command  of  the  army,  in  the  next  battle  -,  which 
Fingal  prornifes  to  give  him .     Some  general  reflexions 
of  the  poet  clofe  the  third  day. 


t    5»    ] 

F    I    N    G     A    L, 

AN    ANCIENT 

EPIC     POEM/ 

In    SIX    BOOKS. 


BOOK     III*. 

PLEASANT  are  the  words  of  the  fong,  faid 
Cuchullln,  and  lovely  are  the  tales  of  other 
times.  They  are  like  the  calm  dew  of  the 
mornipg  on  the  hill  of  roes,  when  the  fun  is 
faint  on  its  fide,  and  the  lake  is  fettled  and  blue 
in  the  vale.  O  Carril,  raife  again  thy  voice, 
and  let  me  hear  the  fong  of  Tura  :  which  was 
fung  in  my  halls  of  joy,  when  Fingal  king  of 
fhields  was  there,  and  glowed  at  the  deeds  of 
his  fathers. 


•  The  fecond  night,  fince  the  opening  of  the  poem,  conti- 
nues ;  and  Cuchullin,  Connal,  and  Carril  ftijl  fit  in  the  place 
dcfcribed  in  the  preceding  book.  The  ftory  of  Agandecca  is  in* 
troduced  here  with  propriety,  as  great  ufe  is  made  of  it  in  th* 
courfe  of  the  poem,  and  as  it,  in  fome  meafure,  brings  about  the 
cataftrophe. 

£  2  Fingal ! 


52  F    I    N    O   A   L,        BookIIL 

FiNGAL  !  thou  man  of  battle,  faid  Carril, 
early  were  thy  deeds  in  arms.  Lochlin  was  con- 
fumed  in  thy  wrath,  when  thy  youth  flrove  with 
the  beauty  of  maids.  They  fmiled  at  the  fair- 
blooming  face  of  the  hero  ;  but  death  was  in  his 
hands.  He  was  ftrong  as  the  waters  of  Lora. 
His  followers  were  like  the  roar  of  a  thoufand 
ilreams.  They  took  the  king  of  Lochlin  in  bat- 
tle, but  reftored  him  to  his  fhips.  His  big 
heart  fwelled  with  pride ;  and  the  death  of  the 

youth  was  dark  in  his  foul. For  none  ever, 

but  Fingal,  overcame  theflrength  of  the  mighty 
Starno  *. 

He  fat  in  the  halls  of  his  ihells  in  Lochlin's 
woody  land.  He  called  the  grey-haired  Snivan, 
that  often  fung  round  the  circle  •f*  of  Loda  : 
when  the  ftone  of  power  heard  his  cry,  and  the 
battle  turned  in  the  field  of  the  valiant. 

Go ;  gray-haired  Snivan,  Starno  faid,  to 
Ardven's  fca-furrounded  rocks.  Tell  to  Fingal 
king  of  the  defart ;  he  that  is  the  faireft  among 
his  thoufands,  tell  him  I  give  him  my  daughter, 
tlie   lovelieft  maid  that  ever  heaved  a  breaft  of 


♦  Stamo  was  the  father  of  Swaran  as  well  as  Agandecca.—— 
His  fierce  and  cruel  charaftcr  is  well  marked  in  other  poems  con- 
'  cerning  the  times. 

;      t  This  pafTage  moft  certainly  alludes  to  the  religion  of  Loch- 
lin, and  the  Jione  of  poiver  here  mentioned  is  the  image  of  one  of 
•  the  deities  of  Scandanavia. 

4  fnow. 


BookIIL      Ai^    epic   poem.  53 

fnow.  Her  arms  are  white  as  the  foam  of  my 
waves.  Her  foul  is  generous  and  mild.  ,  Let 
him  come  with  his  braveft  heroes  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  fecret  hall. 

Snivan  came  to  Albion's  windy  hills  :  and    ■ 
fair-haired  Fingal  went.     His  kindled  foul  flew, 
before  him  as  he  bounded  on  the  waves  of  the 
north. 

Welcome,  faid  the  dark-brown  Starno,  wel- 
come, king  of  rocky  JMorven  ;  and  ye  his  he- 
roes of  might  J  fons  of  the  lonely  ille  I  Three 
days  within  my  halls  Ihall  ye  feaft ;  and  three 
days  purfue  my  boars,  that  your  fame  may 
reach  the  maid  that  dwells  in  the  fecret  hall. 

The  king  of  fnow  *  defigned  their  death,  and 
gave  the  feaft  of  fhells.  Fingal,  who  doubted 
the  foe,  kept  on  his  arms  of  fteel.  The  fons  of 
death  were  afraid,  and  fled  from  the  eyes  of  the 
hero.  The  voice  of  fprightly  mirth  arofe.  The 
trembling  harps  of  joy  are  ftrung.  Bards  fing 
the  battle  of  heroes ;  or  the  heaving  breaft  of 

love. UUin,    Fingal's   bard,  was  there  ;  the 

fweet  voice  of  the  hill  of  Cona.  He  praifed  the 
daughter  of  fnow;   and  Morvcn's  "f  high-de- 

*  Starno  is  here  poetically  cnlled  the  king  of  fnow,  from  the 
great  quantities  of  fnow  that  fall  in  his  dominions, 

f  All  the  North-weft  coall  of  Scotland  probably  went  of  old 
under  the  name  of  Morven,  which  fignifies  a  ridge  of  very  hig" 
hills. 

E  3  fr ended 


^4  F   I   N   G  A  L,        Book  III, 

fcended  chief.-' ^The  daughter  of  fpow  over- 
heard, and  left  the  hall  of  her  fecret  ligh.  She 
came  in  all  her  beauty,  like  the  mopn  from  the 

cloud  of  the  eaft. LoveUnefs  was  around  her 

as  light.  Her  fteps  were  like  the  muiic  of  fongs, 
She  faw  the  youth  and  loved  him.  He  was  the 
Holen  figh  of  her  foul.  Her  blue  eye  roiled  on 
him  in  fecret :  and  Ihe  blell  the  chief  of  Mor- 
ven. 

The  third  day,  with  all  its  beams,  flione 
bright  on  the  wood  of  boars.  Forth  moved  the 
dark-browed  Starno  ;  and  Fingal,  king  of 
ihields.  Half  the  day  they  fpent  in  the  chacej, 
and  the  fpear  of  FingaJ  was  red  in  the  blopd  of 
Cormal  *. 

It  was  then  the  daughter  of  Starno,  with 
blue  eyes  rolling  in  tears,  came  with  her  voice 
qf  love  and  fpoke  to  the  king  of  Morven. 

Fingal,  high-defcended  chief,  truft  not 
Starno's  heart  of  pride.  Within  that  wood  he 
has  placed  his  chiefs  j  beware  of  the  wood  of 
death.  But,  remember,  fo^  of  the  hill,  remem- 
ber Agandecca  ;  fave  me  from  the  wrath  of  my 
father,  king  of  the  windy  Morven  ! 

•  Gormal  is  the  name  of  a  hill  in  Lochlin,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Starno's  palace. 

Th« 


Book  in.      An    EPIC    POEM.  55 

The  youth,  with  unconcern,  went  on  ;  his 
heroes  by  his  fide.  The  fons  of  death  fell  by 
his  hand  j  and  Gormal  echoed  around. 

Before  the  halls  of  Starno  the  fons  of  the 
chace  convened.  The  king's  dark  brows  were 
like  clouds.  His  eyes  like  meteors  of  night. 
Bring  hither,  he  cries,  Agandecca  to  her  lovely 
king  of  Morven.  His  hand  is  ftained  with  the 
blood  of  my  people  ;  and  her  words  ha,ve  not 
been  in  vain. 

She  came  with  the  red  eye  of  tears*  She 
came  with  her  loofe  raven  locks.  Her  white 
breaft  heaved  with  fighs,  like  tlie  foam  of  the 
ftreamy  Lubar.  Starno  pierced  her  fide  with 
fteel.  She  fell  like  a  wreath  of  fnow  that  Aides 
from  the  rocks  of  Ronan  j  when  the  woods  are 
ftill,  and  the  echo  deepens  in  the  vale. 

Then  Fingal  eyed  his  valiant  chiefs,  his  va- 
liant chiefs  took  arms.     The  gloom  of  the  battle 

roared,  and  Lochlin  fled  or  died. Pale,  in 

his  bounding  fhip  he  clofed  the  maid  of  the  raven 
hair.  Her  tomb  afcends  on  Ardven,  and  the 
fea  roars  round  the  dark  dwelling  of  Agandecca, 

Blessed   be  her  foul,  faid  CuchuUin,    and 

bleflied  be  the  mouth   of  the  fong. Strong 

was  the  youth  of  Fingal,  and  ftrong  is  his  arm 
of  age.  Lochlin  fhall  fall  again  before  the  king 
of  echoing  Morven.      Shew  thy  face  from  a 

E  4  ^loud, 


5^  F   I    N    G    A    L,       BooKlir; 

cloud,  O  moon  J  light  his  white  fails  on  the 
wave  of  the  night.  And  if  any  ftrong  fpirit''^ 
of  heaven  fits  on  that  low-hung  cloud ;  turn  his 
dark  iTiips  from  the  ?:ock,  thou  rider  of  the 
ftorm !  > 

Such  were  the  words  of  GuchuUin  at  the 
found  of  the  mountain-ftream,  when  Calmar  af- 
cended  the  hill,  the  wounded  fon  of  Matha. 
From  the  field  he  came  in  his  blood.  He  leaned 
on  his  bending  fpear.  Feeble  is  the  arm  of  bat- 
tle !  but  flrong  the  foul  of  the  hero  ! 

Welcome  !  O  fon  of  Matha,  faid  Gonnal, 
welcome  art  thou  to  thy  friends  !  Why  burfls 
that  broken  figh  from  the  breaft  of  him  that  ne- 
ver feared  before  ? 

And  never,  Gonnal,  will  he  fear,  chief  of 
the  pointed  fteel.  My  foul  brightens  in  danger, 
and  exults  in  the  noife  of  battle.  I  am  of  the 
race  of  Reel  j  my  fathers  never  feared. 

GoR  M  A  R  was  the  firft  of  my  race.  He  fported 
through  the  fiorms  of  the  waves.  His  black  fkiff 
bounded  on  ocean,  and  travelled  on  the  wings  of 

f  This  is  the  only  paflage  in  the  poeni  that  has  the  appearance 
qF  religion. — But  CuchuUin's  apoftrophe  to  this  fpirit  is  accom- 
panied with  a  doubt ;  fo  that  it  is  not  eafy  to  determine  whether 
the  hero  meant  a  fuperior  being,  or  the  ghofts  of  deceafed  war- 
riors, who  wpre  fuppofed  in  thofe  times  to  rule  the  ftorm s,  and 
to  tranfport  themfelves  in  a  gufl  of  wind  from  one  country  to 
another. 

the 


Book  III.      An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  '^7 

the  blaft.  A  fpirit  once  embroiled  the  night. 
Seas  fwell  and  rocks  refound.  Winds  drive 
along  the  clouds.  The  lightning  flies  on  wings 
of  fire.  He  feared  and  came  to  land:  thea 
blufhed  that  he  feared  at  all.  He  rulhed  again 
among  the  waves  to  find  the  fon  of  the  wind.. 
Three  youths  guide  the  bounding  bark ;  he 
iftood  with  the  fword  unfheathed.  When  the 
low-hung  vapour  pafled,  he  took  it  by  the  curl- 
ing head,  and  fearched  its  dark  womb  with  his 
fteel.  The  fon  of  the  wind  forfook  the  air; 
The  moon  and  ftars  returned. 

Such  was  the  boldnefs  of  my  race  ;  and  Cal- 
mar  is  like  his  fathers.  Danger  flies  from  the 
uplifted  fword.     They  beft  fucceed  who  dare. 

But  now,  ye  fons  of  green -vallyed  Erin,  re- 
tire from  Lena's  bloody  heath.  ColIe(5l  the  fad 
remnant  of  our  friends,  and  join  the  fword  of 
Fingal.  I  heard  the  found  of  Lochlin's  advan- 
cing arms  j  but  Galmar  will  remain  and  fight. 
My  voice  Ihall  be  fuch,  my  friends,  as  if  thou- 
lands  were  behind  me.  But,  fon  of  Semo,  re- 
member me.  Remember  Calmar's  lifelefs  corfc. 
After  Fingal  has  wafted  the  field,  place  me  by 
fonje  ftone  of  remembrance,  that  future  times 
may  hear  my  fame ;  and  the  mother  *  of  Cal- 
mar  rejoice  over  the  ftone  of  my  renown. 

*  Alcletha,  her  lamentation  over  her  fon  is  introduceJ  in  the 
fccm  concerning  the  death  of  Cuchuliin,  printed  in  this  collc(5tion. 

No: 


5^  F   I    N   G   A    L,       BooKllU 

No  :  ion  of  Matha,  faid  CuchulUn,  I  will 
never  leave  thee.  My  joy  is  in  the  unequal 
field  :  my  foul  increafes  in  danger.  Connal, 
and  Carril  of  other  times,  carry  off  the  fad  fons 
of  Erin  j  and  when  the  battle  is  over,  fearch 
for  our  pale  corfes  in  this  narrow  way.  For 
near  this  oak  we  fhall  ftand  in  the  ftream  of  the 

battle  of  thoufands. O  Fithil's  fon,  with  feet 

of  wind,  fly  over  the  heath  of  Lena.  Tell  to 
Fingal  that  Erin  is  inthralled,  and  bid  the  king 
of  Morven  haften,  O  let  him  come  like  the 
fun  in  a  florm,  when  he  Ihines  on  the  hills  of 
grafs. 

Morning  is  gray  on  Cromla ;  the  fons  of 
the  fea  afcend.  Calmar  Hood  forth  to  meet 
them  in  the  pride  of  his  kindling  foul.  But 
pale  was  the  face  of  the  warrior  ;  he  leaned  on 
his  father's  fpear.  That  fpear  which  he  brought 
from  Lara's  hall,  when  the  foul  of  his  mother 

was  fad. But  flowly  now  the  hero  falls  like  ^ 

tree  on  the  plains  of  Cona.  Dark  CuchuUii^ 
^ands  alone  like  a  rc>ck  *  in  a  fandy  vale.     The 


HXiCaTo?,  fi-iyaXfJi  '^fo^»1?  a^o?   l.'^i);  eaaa,   &C. 

HoM.  II.  i5« 

So  fome  tall  rocko'erhangs  the  hoary  main. 

By  wjnds  aiTail'd,  by  billows  beat  in  vain, 

Unmov'd  it  hears,  above,  the  tempefts  blow, 

And  ffes  the  watry  mountains  break  below.  Pope. 


Book  III.     An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  $9 

fea  comes  with  its  waves,  and  roars  on  its  har- 
dened fides.     Its  head  is  covered  with  foam,  and 

the  hills  are  echoing  around. Now  from  the 

gray  mift  of  the  ocean,  the  white-failed  Ihips  of 
Fingal  appear.  High  is  the  grove  of  their  mafls 
as  they  nod,  by  turns,  on  the  rolling  wave, 

SwARAN  faw  them  from  the  hill,  and  re- 
turned from  the  fons  of  Erin.  As  ebbs  tlie  re- 
founding  fea  through  the  hundred  ifles  of  Inis- 
tore  ;  fo  loud,  fo  vaft,  fo  immenfe  returned  the 
fons  of  Lochlin  againft  the  king  of  the  defert 
hill.  But  bending,  weeping,  fad,  and  flow, 
and  dragging  his  long  fpear  behind,  CuchuUin 
funk  in  Cromla's  wood,  and  mourned  his  fallen 
friends.  He  feared  the  face  of  Fingal,  who  was 
wont  to  greet  him  from  the  fields  of  renown. 

How  many  lie  there  of  my  heroes !  the  chiefs 
pf  Innis-fail  !  they  tliat  were  chearful  in  the 
hall  when  the  found  of  the  iTiells  arofc.  No 
piore  fhall  I  find  their  fieps  in  the  heath,  or  hear 
their  voice  in  the  chace  of  the  hinds.  Pale, 
filent,  low  on  bloody  beds  are  they  who  wci^ 
my  friends !  O  fpirits  of  the  lately-dead,  meet 
puchulUn  on  his  heath.  Copverfe  with  him  on 
the  wind,  when  the  ruftling  tree  of  Tura's  cave 
rcfounds.  There,  far  remote,  I  fhall  lie  un- 
Js.nown.     No  bard  fhall  hear  of  me.     No  gray 

^oi^e 


6o  F   I   N    G    A    L,        Book  III. 

ftone  Ihall  rife  to  my  renown.  Mourn  me  with 
the  dead,  O  Bragela  !  departed  is  my  fame. 

'Such  were  the  words  of  Cuchullin  when  he 
funk  in  the  woods  of  Cromla. 

FiNGAL,  tall  in  his  fhip,  ftretched  his  bright 
lance  before  him.  Terrible  was  the  gleam  of 
the  fteel :  it  was  like  the  green  meteor  of  death, 
fetting  in  the  heath  of  Malmor,  when  the  tra- 
veller is  alone,  and  the  broad  moon  is  darkened 
in  heaven. 

The  battle  is  over,  faid  the  king,  and  I  be* 
hold  the  blood  of  my  friends.  Sad  is  the  heath 
of  I^ena  -,  and  mournful  the  oaks  of  Cromla :. 
the  hunters  have  fallen  there  in  their  ftrength  y 

and  the  fon  of  Semo  is  no  more. Ryno  and 

Fillan,  my  fons,  found  the  horn  of  Fingal's 
war.  Afcend  that  hill  on  the  Ihore,  and  call 
the  children  of  the  foe.  Call  them  from  the 
grave  of  Lamdarg,  the  chief  of  other  times. — — - 
Be  your  voice  like  that  of  your  father,  when  he 
enters  the  battles  of  his  ftrength.  I  wait  for  the 
dark  mighty  man ;  I  wait  on  Lena's  fhorc  for 
Swaran.  And  let  him  come  with  all  his  race ; 
for  ftrong  in  battle  are  the  friends  of  the  dead. 

Fair  Ryno  flew  like  lightning  ;  dark  Fillan 
as  the  fhade  of  autumn.  On  Lena's  heath  their 
voice  is  heard  ;  the  fons  of  ocean  heard  the 
horn  of  Fingal's  war.     As  the  roaring  eddy  of 

ocean 


BaoKlII.      An    EPIC   POEM.  6r 

ocean  returning  from  the  kingdom  of  fnows ;  fo 
ftrong,  fo  dark,  fo  fudden  came  down  the  fons 
of  Lochlin.  The  king  in  their  front  appears  in 
the  difmal  pride  6f  his  arms.  Wrath  burns  in 
his  dark-brown  face  :  and  his  eyes  roll  in  the 
fire  of  his  valour. 

Fi NG  A L  beheld  the  fon  of  Starno ;  and  he 

remembered  Agandecca. For  Swaran  with 

the  tears  of  youth  had  mourned  his  white-bo- 
fomed  lifter.  He  fent  Ullin  of  the  fongs  to  bid 
him  to  the  feaft  of  fhells.  For  pleafant  on  Fin- 
gal's  foul  returned  the  remembrance  of  the  firft 
of  his  loves. 

Ullin  came  with  aged  fteps,  and  fpoke  to 
Starno's  fon.  O  thou  that  dwelleft  afar,  fur- 
rounded,  like  a  rock,  with  thy  waves,  come  to 
the  feaft  of  the  king,  and  pafs  the  day  in  reft. 
To-morrow  let  us  fight,  O  Swaran,  and  break 
the  echoing  ftiields. 

To-DAY,  fald  Starno's  wrathful  fon,  we 
break  the  echoing  ftiields  :  to-morrow  my  feaft 
will  be  fpread ;  and  Fingal  lie  on  earth. 

And  to-morrow  let  his  feaft  be  fpread,  fiiid 
Fingal  with  a  fmile;  for  to-day,  O  my  fons,  we 

ihall  break  the  echoing  ftiields. Oflian,  ftand 

thou  near  my  arm.  Gaul,  lift  thy  terrible 
fword.    Fergus,  bend -thy  crooked  yew.   Throw, 

FUlan,  thy  lance  through  heaven. Lift  your 

ihiclds 


62  F    I    N    G    A    L,       ^ookIIT. 

fhields  like  the  darkened  moon.  Be  your  fpears 
the  meteors  of  death.  Follow  me  in  the  path  »f 
my  fame  j  and  equal  my  deeds  in  battle. 

As  a  hundred  winds  on  Alorven ;  as  the 
ft  reams  of  a  hundred  hills;  as  clouds  fly  fuccef- 
five  over  heaven  ;  or,  as  the  dark  ocean  affaults 
the  fhore  of  the  defer t :  fo  roaring,  fo  vaft,  fo 
terrible  the  armies  mixed  on   Lena's   echoing 

heath. ^The  groan  of  the  people  fpread  over 

the  hills;  it  was  like  the  thunder  of  night,  when 
the  cloud  burfts  on  Cona;  and  a  thoufand  gholls 
Ihriek  at  once  on  the  hollow  wind. 

FiNGAL  rufhed  on  in  his  ftrength,  terrible 
as  the  fpirit  of  Trenmor  ;  when,  in  a  whirlwind, 
he  comes  to  Morven  to  fee  the  children  of  his 
pride.     The  oaks  refound  on  their  hills,  and  the 

rocks  fall  down  before  him. Bloody  was  the 

hand  of  my  father  when  he  whirled  the  lightning 
of  his  fword.  He  remembers  the  battles  of  hi? 
youth,  and  the  field  is  wafted  in  his  courfe. 

Ryno  went  on  like  a  pillar  of  fire. Dark 

is  the  brow  of  Gaul.  Fergus  rullied  forward  with 
feet  of  wind  ;  and  Fillan  like  the  mift  of  the 
hill. Myfelf*,  like  a  rock,  came  down,  I 

•  Here  the  poet  celebrates  his  own  actions,  but  he  does  it  in 
fuch  a  manner  that  we  are  not  difpleaff^d.  The  mention  of  the 
great  adions  of  his  youth  immediattrly  fuggefts  to  him  the  help- 
leis  fituation  of  his  age.  We  do  not  defpile  him  for  felfilh  praifc, 
but  feel  his  misfortunes. 

exulted 


Book  III.      An   EPIC   POEM.  63 

exulted  in  the  ftrength  of  the  king.  Many  were 
the  deaths  of  my  armj  and  difmal  was  the 
gleam  of  my  fword.  My  locks  were  not  then 
fo  gray  ;  nor  trembled  my  hands  of  age.  My 
eyes  were  not  clofcd  in  darknefs  j  nor  failed  my 
feet  in  the  race. 

Who  can  relate  the  deaths  of  the  people;  or 
the  deeds  of  mighty  heroes;  whenFingal,  burning 
in  his  wrath,  confumed  the  fons  of  Lochlin  ? 
Groans  fwelled  on  groans  from  hill  to  hill,  till 
night  had  covered  all.  Pale,  ftaring  like  a  herd 
of  deer,  the  fons  of  Lochlin  convene  on  Lena. 

We  fat  and  heard  the  fprlghtly  harp  at  Lubar's 
gentle  ftream.  Fingal  himfelf  was  next  to  the 
foe ;  and  liftened  to  the  tales  of  bards.  His 
godlike  race  were  in  the  fong,  the  chiefs  of 
other  times.  Attentive,  leaning  on  his  ihield, 
the  king  of  Morven  fat.  The  wind  whittled 
through  his  aged  locks,  and  his  thoughts  are  of 
the  days  of  other  years.  Near  him  on  his  bend- 
ing fpear,  my  young,  my  lovely  Ofcar  flood. 
He  admired  the  king  of  Morven :  and  his  ac- 
tions were  fwelling  in  his  foul. 

Son  of  my  fon,  begun  the  king,  O  Ofcar, 
pride  of  youth,  I  faw  the  fliining  of  thy  fword 
and  gloried  in  my  race.  Purfue  the  glory  of 
our  fathers,  and  be  what  they  have  been ;  when 
Trenmor  lived,  tlie  firft  of  men,  and  Trathal 

thq 


64  F   1   U   G   A   U       iSooKlli. 

the  father  of  heroes.  They  fought  the  battle 
in  their  youth,  and  are  the  fong  of  bards. '• 

0  Ofcar  !  bend  the  ftrong  in  arms  :  but  fpafc 
the  feeble  hand.  Be  thou  a  ftream  of  many 
tides  againft  the  foes  of  thy  people ;  but  like  the 
gale  that  moves  the  grafs  to  thofe  who  aik  thine 

aid. So  Trenmor  lived ;  fuch  Trathal  was  j 

and  fuch  has  Fingal  been.  My  arm  was  the 
fupport  of  the  injured  ;  and  the  weak  refted  be- 
hind the  lightning  of  my  fteel. 

Oscar  !  I  was  young  like  thee,  when  loveljr 
Fainafollis  came  :  that  fun-beam !  that  mild 
iight  of  love  !  the  daughter  of  Craca's  *  king  I 

1  then  returned  from  Cona's  heath,  and  few 
were  in  my.  train.  A  white-failed  boat  ap- 
peared far  oif  J  we  faw  it  like  a  mift  that  rode  on 
ocean's  blaft.  It  foon  approached  ;  we  faw  the 
fair.  Her  white  breaft  heaved  with  fighs.  The 
wind  was  in  her  loofe  dark  hair  ;  her  rofy  cheek 

had  tears. Daughter  of  beauty,  calm  I  faid, 

what  figh  is  in  that  breaft  ?  Can  I,  young  as  I 
am,  defend  thee,  daughter  of  the  fea  ?  My 
fword  is  not  unmatched  in  war,  but  dauntlefs  is 
my  heart. 

*  What  the  Craca  here  mentioned  was,  is  not,  at  this  diftance 
of  time,  eafy  to  determine.  The  moft  probable  opinion  is,  that 
it  was  one  of  the  Shetland  ifles.— There  is  a  ftory  concerning  a 
daughter  of  the  king  of  Craca  in  the  fixth  book. 

To 


SooK  in.      An    EPIC    POEM.  6^ 

To  thee  I  fly,  with  fighs  fhc  replied,  O  chief', 
of  mighty  men!  To  thee  1  fly,  chief  of  fheHs, 
fupporter  of  the  feeble  hand!  The  king  of 
Craca's  echoing  tfle  Owned  nie  the  fun -beam  of 
his  race.  And  often  did  the  hills  of  Cromala 
reply  to  the  fighs  of  love  for  the  unhappy  Fai- 
nafollls.  Sora's  chief  beheld  me  fair ;  and  loved 
the  daughter  of  Craca.  His  fword  is  like  a  beam 
of  light  upon  the  warrior's  fide.  But  dark  is 
his  brow  ;  and  tempefts  are  in  his  foul.  I  Ibun 
him  on  the  rolling  fea  ;  but  Sora's  chief  pur* 
fues. 

Rest  tliou,  I  faid,  behind  my  fhicld  ;  reft  in 
peace,  thou  beam  of  light !  The  gloomy  chief 
of  Sora  will  fly,'  if  Fingal's  arm  is  like  his  foul. 
In  feme  lone  cave  I  might  conceal  thee,  daugh- 
ter of  the  fca  !  But  Fingal  never  flics ;  for  where 
the  danger  threatens,  1  rejoice  in  tlic  florm  of 

fpcars. 1  faw  the  tears  upon  her  check.     I 

pitied  Craca's  fair. 

Now,  like  a  dreadful  wave  afar,  appeared  the 
Ihip  of  flormy  Borbar.  His  mafts  high-bended 
over  the  fea  behind  tlicir  llieets  of  fnow.  White 
roll  the  vv-atcrs  on  cither  fide.  The  ftrcngth  of 
ocean  founds.  Come  thou,  I  faid,  from  the 
roar  of  ocean,  thou  rider  of  the  ftorm.  Partake 
the  feaft  within  my  hall.  It  is  the  houfc  of 
fcngcrs.- — Tl:c  maid  flood  trembling  by  my 

F  fi>^Cj 


66  F   I   N  G    A    L,  Eooiclir; 

fide  ;  he  drew  the  bow :  Ihe  fell.  Unerring  is 
thy  hand,  I  faid ,  but  feeble  was  the  foe.— 
We  fought,  nor  weak  was  the  ftrife  of  death: 
He  funk  beneath  my  fword.  We  laid  them  in 
two  tombs  of  ftones ;  the  unhappy  children  of 
youth. 

Such  have  I  been  in  my  youth,  O  Ofcar; 
be  thou  like  the  age  of  Fingal.     Never  feek  the 

battle,  nor  Ihun  it  when  it  comes. Fillan  and 

Ofcar  of  the  dark-brown  hair ;  ye  children  of 
the  race  5  fly  over  the  heath  of  roaring  winds  5 
and  view  the  fons  of  Lochlin.  Far  oif  I  hear 
the  noife  of  their  fear,  like  the  ftorms  of  echo- 
ing  Cona.     Go :    that   they  may   not   fly  my 

fword   along  the  waves  of  the  north. For 

many  chiefs  of  Erin's  race  lie  here  on  the  dark 
bed  of  death.  The  children  of  the  llorm  are 
low  J  the  fons  of  echoing  Cromla. 

The  heroes  flew  like  two  dark  clouds;  twa 
dark  clouds  that  are  the  chariots  of  ghofts; 
when  air's  dark  children  come  to  frighten  hap- 
Icfs  men. 

It  was  then  that  Gaul  *,  the  fon  of  Morni, 
flood  like  a  rock  in  the  night.     His  fpear  is 

glittering 

•  Gaul,  the  Ton. of  Morni,  was  chief  of  a  tribe  that  difputed 
long,  the  pre-eminence,  with  Fingal  himfelf.  They  were  re- 
duced at  laft  to  obedience,  and  Gaul,  from  an  enemy,  turned 
Fingal's  beft  friend  and  greatell  hero.     His  charaiSer  is  fome- 

thing 


Book  III.     An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  €i 

glittering  to  the  ftars  j  his  voice  like  many 
llreams.-^— Son  of  battle,  cried  the  chief,  O 
Fingal,  king  of  fhells !  let  the  bards  of  many 
fongs  footh  Erin's  friends  to  teft*  And,  Fingal, 
iheath  thy  fword  of  death ;  and  let  thy  people 
light.  We  wither  away  without  our  fame  ;  for 
our  king  is  the  only  breaker  of  fhields.  When 
inorning  rifes  on  our  hills,  behold  at  a  diftance 
our  deeds.  Let  Lochlin  feel  the  fword  of 
Morni's  fon,  that  bards  may  fing  of  me.  Such 
was  the  cuftom  heretofore  of  FingaKs  noble  race. 
Such  was  thine  own,  thou  king  of  fwords,  iii 
battles  of  the  fpear* 

O  SON  of  Morni,  Fingal  replied,  I  glory  in 

thy  fame. Fight ;  but  my  fpear  fhall  be  near 

to  aid  thee  in  the  midft  of  danger.  Raife,  raife 
the  voice,  fons  of  the  fong,  and  lull  me  into 
reft.     Here  will  Fingal  lie  amidft  the  v/ind  of 

night. And  if  thou,  Agandecca,  art  near, 

among  the  children  of  thy  land  j  if  thou  fittcft 
on  a  blaft  of  wind  among  the  high-fiirowdcd 
mafts  of  Lochlin ;  come  to  my  dreams  *,  my 
fair  one,  and  fhew  thy  bright  face  to  my  foul. 

thing  like  that  of  Ajax  in  the  Iliad  ;  a  hero  of  _morc  fircngth 
than  conduft  in  battle.  He  was  very  fond  of  mih'tary  fame,  and 
here  he  demands  the  next  battle  to  hinifclf. — The  poet,  by  an 
artifice,  removes  Fingal,  that  his  return  may  be  the  more  mag- 
nificent. 

*  The  poet  prepares  us  for  she  dream  of  Fingal  in  the  next 
book. 

F   2  Mw^NY 


6g  F    I    N    G    A   U         Book  IllI 

Many  a  voice  and  many  a  harp  In  tuneful 
founds  arofe.  Of  Fingal's  noble  deeds  they 
fung,  and  of  the  noble  race  of  the  hero.  And 
fometimes  on  the  lovely  found  was  heard  the 
name  of  the  now  mournful  Oflian. 

Often  have  I  fought,  and  often  won  in  bat- 
tles of  the  fpear.  But  blind,  and  tearful,  and 
forlorn  I  now  walk  with  little  men.  O  Fingal, 
with  thy  race  of  battle  I  now  behold  thee  not. 
The  wild  roes  feed  upon  the  green  tomb  of  the 

mighty  king  of  Morven. Bleft  be  thy  foul, 

thou  king  of  fwords,  thou  moft  renowned  on 
the  hills  of  Cona  ! 


FINGAL, 


F    I    N     G     A     L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


BOOK     IV. 


'    Fj 


ARGUMENT    to    BookW. 

^he  a5i\on  of  the  poem  heing  fufpended  hy  night,  OJftan  ^ 
takes  that  opportunity  to  relate  his  own  anions  at  the 
lake  of  Lego,  and  his  courtfhip  of  Evir^llin,  who 
^was  the  mother  of  Of  car ,  and  bad  diedfome  time 
before  the  expedition  of  Fipgal  into  Ireland.     Her. 
ghofi  appears  to  him,  and  tells  him  that  Ofcar,  wba 
had  been  fent,  the  beginning  of  the  night,  to  obferve 
the  enemy,  was  engaged  with  an  advanced  party j 
and  almojt  overpowered.     OJftan  relieves  his  fon  \ 
4ind  an  alarm  is  given  to  Fingal  of  the  approach  of 
Swaran.     The  king  rifes,  calls  his  army  together ^ 
4ind,  as  he  had  promifed  the  preceding  night,  devolves 
the  command  on  Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni,  while  he 
himfelf,  after  charging  his  fons  to  behave  gallantly 
end  defend  his  people,  retires  to  a  hill,  from  whence 
he  could  have  a  view  of  the  battle.     The  battle 
joins ',  the  poet  relates  Ofcar^s  great  anions.     But 
when  Ofcar,  in  conjunction  with  his  father,  con- 
quered in  one  wing,  Gaul,  who  was  attacked  by 
Swaran  in  perfon,  was  on  the  point  of  retreating  in 
the  other.     Fingal  fends  Ullin  his  bard  to  encourage 
him  with  a  warfong,  but  notwithfianding  Swaran 
-prevails  •,  and  Gaul  and  his  army  are  obliged  to  give 
way,     Fingal,  defc?nding  from  the  hill,  rallies  them 
again:  Swaran  defifts  from  the  purfuit,  poffeffes 
himjelf  of  a  r'lfing  ground,  reftores  the  ranks,  and, 
waits  the  approach  of  Fingal.     The  king,  having 
encouraged  bis  men,  gives  the  neceffary  orders,  and 
renews  the  battle.     Cucbullin,  who,  with  his  friend 
Connal,  and  Carril  bis  hard,  had  retired  to  the 
cave  of  Tura,  bearing  the  noife,  came  to  the  brow 
cf  the  hill,  which  overlooked  the  field  of  battle^ 
where  be  faw  Fingal  engaged  with  the  enemy.     //^ 
being  hindered  hy  Connal  from  joining  Fingal,  who 
was  himfelf  upon  the  point  of  obtaining  a  complete 
vi51ory,  fends  Carril  to  congratulate  that  here  on 
his  fnccefs. 


f    7>    ] 

F    I    N    G     A     L, 

AN    ANCIENT 

EPIC     POEM. 

In    SIX    BOOKS. 
BOOK     IV*. 

TTiTHO  comes  with  her  fongs  from  the 
^  "  mountain,  like  the  bow  of  the  Ihowery 
Lena  ?  Ij:  is  the  maid  of  the  voice  of  love.  The 
white-armed  daughter  of  Tofcar.  Often  haft 
thou  heard  m^  fong,  and  given  the  tear  of 
beauty.  Doft  thou  come  to  the  battles  of  thy 
people,  and  to  hear  the  a6^ions  of  Ofcar?  When 

*  Fingal  being  afleep,  and  the  a£lion  fufpended  by  niglit,  the 
poet  introduces  the  ftory  of  his  courtfliip  of  Evirallin  the  daugh- 
ter of  Branno.  The  epifode  is  neceflary  to  clear  up  fevcral  pnf- 
fages  that  follow  in  the  poem;  at  the  fame  time  that  it  naturaUy 
brings  on  the  aftion  of  the  book  which,  may  be  fuppofcd  to  be- 
gin about  tlK  middle  of  the  third  night  from  the  opening  of  the 

poem. This  book,  as  many  of  Oflian's  other  compolitions, 

is  addreflfed  to  the  beautiful  Malvina  tJie  daughter  of  Tofcar, 
She  appears  to  have  been  in  love  with  Ofcar,  and  to  have  af- 
fedled  the  company  of  the  father  after  the  death  of  the  Ton.     - 

F  4  fl^all 


72  F    I    N    G   A   L,        Book  IV, 

iTiall  I  ceafp  to  maurn  by  the  ftrcan[is  of  the 
.echoing  Cona  ?  My  years  Have  pafled  away  in 
battle,  and  my  age  is  darkened  with  forrow. 

DAUGHTiiR  of  the  hand  of  fnow  !  I  was  not 
fo  mournful  and  blind  ;  I  was  not  fp  dark  an4 
forlorn  when  Everallin  loved  me.  Evcrallin 
with  the  dark-brown  hair,  the  white-bofomed 
love  of  Cormac.  A  thoufand  heroes  fought  the 
maid,  llie  denied  her  love  to  a  thoufand  ^  t^e 
fons  of  the  fwqrd  were  defpifed  j  for  graceful  ir^ 
her  eyes  was  Offian. 

1  WENT  in  fuit  of  the  maid  to  Lego's  fable 
furge  ;  twelve  of  my  people  were  there,  the  fons 
of  the  rtreamy  Morven.  We  came  to  Branno 
friend   of  ftrangers  :  Branno  of  the  founding 

mail. From  whence,  he  faid,  are  the  arms  of 

Heel  ?  Not  eafy  to  win  is  the  maid  that  has  de- 
nied the  blue-eyed  fons  of  Erin.  But  bleft  be 
thou,  O  fon  of  Fingal,  happy  is  the  maid  that 
waits  thee.  Tho'  twelve  daughters  of  beauty 
were  mine,  thine  were  the  choice,  thou  fon  of 
fame  ! — : — :Then  he  opened  the  hall  of  the  maid, 
the  dark-haired  Everallin.  Joy  kindled  in  our 
breafts  of  fteel  and  bleft  tlie  maid  of  Branno. 

Above  us  on  the  hill  appeared  the  people  of 
fiatcly  Cormac.  Eight  were  the  heroes  of  the 
chief;  and  tlie  heath  flamed  with  their  arms. 
lliere  Colla,  Durra  of  the  wounds,  there  mighty 

Tofcar, 


•Book  IV.      An    EPIC   POEM.  yj 

Tofcar,  and  Tago,  there  Freftal  the  vi<5\orious 
flood ;  Dairo  of  the  happy  deeds,  and  Dala  the 

battle's   bulwark  in  the   narrow   w^y. ^Thc 

'fword  flamed  in  the  hand  of  Cormac,  and  grace- 
ful was  the  look  of  the  hero.  ■■< 

Eight  were  the  heroes  of  Oflianj  Ullln 
ftormy  fon  of  war  j  Mullo  of  the  generous 
deeds ;  the  noble,  the  graceful  Scelacha  ;  Oglan, 
'  and  Cerdal  the  wrathful,  and  Duma-riccan's 
brows  of  death.  And  why  fhould  Ogar  be  the 
laft  5  fo  wide  renowned  on  the  hills  of  Ardven  ? 

Ogar  met  Dala  the  ftrong,  face  to  face,  on 
the  field  of  heroes.  The  battle  of  the  chiefe  was 
'  like  the  wind  on  ocean's  foamy  waves.  The 
dagger  is  remembered  by  Ogar  j  the  weapon 
which  he  loved  ;  nine  times  he  drowned  it  in 
Dala's  fide.  The  f^ormy  battle  turned.  Three 
times  I  pierced  Cormac's  flneld  :  three  times  he 
broke  his  fpear.     But,  unhappy  youth  of  love ! 

I  cut  his  head  away. Five  times  I  fhook  it 

by  the  lock.     The  friends  of  Cormac  fled. 

Whoever  would  have  told  me,  lovely  maid*, 
when  then  1  ftrove  in  battle  j  that  blind,  for- 
faken,  and  forlorn  I  now  Ihould  pafs  the  night; 
firm  ought  his  mail  to  have  been,  and  un- 
matched his  arm  in  battle. 

*  The  poet  addrelTcs  hirafelf  to  Malvina  '.he  daughter  of  Tofcar. 

Now 


74  F   I   N   G    A   L;         Book  IV. 

Now  *  on  Lena's  gloomy  heath  the  voice  of 
mufic  died  away.  The  unconftant  blaft  blew 
hard,  and  the  high  oak  Ihook  its  leaves  around 
me  ;  of  Everallin  were  my  thoughts,  when  ihe, 
in  all  the  light  of  beauty,  and  her  blue  eyes 
rolling  in  tears,  flood  on  a  cloud  before  my 
fight,  and  fpoke  with  feeble  voice. 

O  OssiAN,  rife  and  fave  my  fon  ;  fave  Ofcar 
chief  of  men,    near  the  red   oak  of  Lubar's 

flream,  he  fights  with  Lochlin's  fons. She 

funk  into  her  cloud  again.  I  clothed  me  with 
my  fteel.  My  fpear  fupported  my  fteps,  and 
my  rattling  armour  rung.  I  hummed,  as  I  was 
wont  in  danger,  the  fongs  of  heroes  of  old. 
Like  diftant  thunder  t*  Lochlin  heard  j  they 
fled  5  my  fon  purfued. 

*  The  poet  returns  to  his  fubje£l.  If  one  could  fix  the  time 
of  the  year  in  which  the  aftion  of  the  poem  happened,  from  the 
fcene  defcribed  here,  I  Ihould  be  tempted  to  place  it  in  autumn. 
— The  trees  fhed  their  leaves,  and  the  winds  are  variable,  both 
which  circumllances  agree  with  that  feafon  of  the  year. 

•f  Offian  gives  the  reader  a  high  idea  of  himfelf.  His  very 
fong  frightens  the  enemy.  This  paflage  refembles  one  in  the 
eighteenth  Iliad,  where  the  voice  of  Achilles  frightens  the  Tro- 
jans from  the  body  of  Patroclus, 

Forth  march'd  the  chief,  and  diftant  from  the  crowd 

High  on  the  rampart  rais'd  his  voice  aloud. 

So  high  his  brazen  voice  the  hero  rear'd, 

Hofts  drop  their  arms  and  trembled  as  they  fear*d. 

POPB. 
I  CALLED 


Book  IV.       An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  75 

I  CALLED   him  like  a  dft&nt  ftream.     My 
Ton  return  over  Lena.     No  further  purfue  the 
foe,  though  Offian  is  behind  thee.— — -He  came ; 
and  lovely  in  my  ear  was  Ofcar's  founding  fteel. 
Why  didft  thou   flop  my  hand,    he  faid,    till 
fileath  had  covered  all  ?  For  dark  and  dreadful 
by    the  ft  ream  they  met  thy  fon  and  Fillan. 
They  watched  the  terrors  of  the  night.     Our 
fwords  have  conquered  fome.     But  as  the  winds 
of  night  pour  the  ocean  over  the  white- fands  of 
Mora,  fo  dark  advance  the  fons  of  Lochlin  over 
Lena's    ruftling  heath.     Tht  ghofts   of  night 
ihrick  afar ;    and  1   have  feen  the  meteors   of 
death.     Let  me  awake  the  king  of  Morven,  he 
tliat  fmiles  in  danger  ;  for  he  is  like  the  fon  of 
heaven  that  rifes  in  a  ftorm. 

FiNGAL  had  ftarted  from  a  dream,  and 
leaned  on  Trenmor's  Ihield ;  the  dark-brown 
ihield  of  his  fathers;   which  they  had  lifted  of 

old  in  the  battles  of  their  race. The  hero  had 

feen  in  his  reft  the  mournful  form  of  Agandecca  j 
fhe  came  from  the  way  of  the  ocean,  and  flowly, 
lonely,  moved  over  Lena.  Her  face  was  pale 
like  the  mift  of  Cromla;  and  dark  were  the 
tears  of  her  cheek.  She  often  raifcd  her  dim 
hand  from  her  robe  ;  her  robe  which  was  of  the 
clouds  of  the  defart ;  ftie  ralfed  her  dim  hand 
over  Fingal,  and  turned  away  her  filent  eyes. 

Why 


I' 

76  F    I    N    G    A    L,        Book  IVi 

Why  weeps  the  daughter  of  Starno,  faid  Fin- 
gal,  with  a  figh  ?  Why  is  thy  face  fo  pale,  thou 

daughter  of  the  clouds  ? She  departed  on  the 

wind  of  Lena  j  and  left  him  in  the  midft  of  the 

night. She  mourned  the  fons  of  her  people 

that  were  to  fall  by  Fingal's  hand. 

The  hero  ftarted  from  reft,  and  ftill  beheld 

her  in  his  foul.-^ -The  found  of  Ofcar's  ftcps 

approached.  The  king  faw  the  grey  fhield  on 
his  fide.  For  the  faint  beam  of  the  morning 
came  over  the  waters  of  UUin. 

What  do  the  foes  in  their  fear  ?  faid  the  rifing 
•  king  of  Morven.  Or  fly  they  through  ocean's 
foam,  or  wait  they  the  battle  of  fteel  ?  But  why 
Jhould  Fingal  afk  ?  I  hear  their  voice  on  the  early 
wind.— Fly  over  Lena's  heath,  O  Ofcar,  and 
awake  our  friends  to  battle. 

The  king  flood  by  the  ftone  of  Lubar  j  and 
thrice  raifed  his  terrible  voice.  The  deer  ftarted 
from  the  fountains  of  Cromlaj  and  all  the  rocks 
fhook  on  their  hills.  Like  the  noife  of  a  hun- 
dred mountaln-ftreams,  that  burft,  and  roar, 
and  foam  :  like  the  clouds  that  gather  to  a  tem-  ^ 
peft  on  the  blue  face  of  the  fky  j  fo  met  the  fons 
of  the  defart,  round  the  terrible  voice  of  Fin- 
gal. For  pleafant  was  the  voice  of  the  king  of 
Morven  to  the  warriors  of  his  land  :  often  h^ad 

he 


gbOK  IV.      An    E  P I  C    P  6  Ei  M.  77 

he  led  them  to  battle,  and  returned  with  the 
fpoils  of  the  foe. 

Come  to  battle,  faid  the  king,  ye  children  of 
the  fiorm.     Come  to  the  death  of  thoufands. 

Comhal's  fon  will  fee  the  fight. My  fword 

fliall  wave  on  that  hill,  and  be  the  fhield  of  my 
"people.  But  never  may  you  need  it,  warriors ; 
while  the    fon   of  Morni  fights,  the  chief  of 

■mighty  men. He  Ihall  lead  my  battle  ;  that 

his  fame  may  rife  in  the  fong. O  ye  ghofts 

of  heroes  dead  !  ye  riders  of  the  ftorm  of 
Cromla  !  receive  my  falling  people  with  joy, 
and  bring  them  to  your  hills.— And  may  the 
blaft  of  Lena  carry  them  over  my  feas,  that  they 
may  come  to  my  filcnt  dreams,  and  delight  my 
foul  in  reft. 

FiLLAN  and  Ofcar,  of  the  dark-brown  hair! 
fair  Ryno,  with  the  pointed  fl:eel !  adyance  with 
valour  to  the  fight ;  and  behold  the  fon  of 
Morni.  Let  your  fvvords  be  like  his  in  the 
firifc  :  and  bcliold  the  deeds  of  his  hands.  Pro- 
tcSi  the  friends  of  your  father  :  and  remember 
the  chiefs  of  old.  My  children,  I  ihall  fee  you 
yet,  though  here  ye  ihould  fall  in  Erin.  Soon 
ihall  our  cold,  pale  ghofts  meet  in  a  cloud,  and 
lly  over  the  hills  of  Cona. 

Now  like  a  dark  and   ftormy  cloud,  edged 
round  with   the   red  lightning  of  heaven,  and 

flying 
9 


7*  F    I    N   G   A  L,        Book  TV* 

flying  weft  ward  from  the  morning's  beam,  the 
king  of  hills  removed.  Terrible  is  the  light  of 
his  armour,  and  two  fpears  are  in  his  hand. 

His  gray  hair  falls  on  the  wind. He  often 

looks  back  on  the  war.  Three  bards  attend  thq 
fon  of  fame,  to  carry  his  words  to  the  heroes.--^ 
High  on  Cromla's  fide  he  fat,  waving  the  light- 
ning of  his  fword,  and  as  he  waved  we  moved. 

Joy  rofe  in  Ofcar's  face.  His  cheek  is  red. 
His  eye  Iheds  tears.  The  fword  is  a  beam  of 
fire  in  his  hand.     He  came,  and  fmiling,  fpoke 

to  Offian. ^O  ruler  of  the  fight  of  fteel !  my 

father,  hear  thy  fon.  Retire  with  Morven's 
mighty  chief;  and  give  me  Offian's  fame.  And 
if  here  I  fall ;  my  king,  remember  that  breaft 
of  fnow,  that  lonely  fun-beam  of  my  love,  the 
white-handed  daughter  of  Tofcar.  For  with 
red  cheek  from  the  rock,  and  bending  over  the 
ftream,  her  foft  liair  flies  about  her  bofom  as 
Ihe  pours  the  figh  for  Ofcar.  Tell  her  I  am  on 
my  hills  a  lightly-bounding  fon  of  the  wind  j 
that  hereafter,  in  a  cloud,  I  may  meet  the  lovely 
maid  of  Tofcar. 

Raise,  Ofcar,  rather  raife  my  tomb.  I  will 
not  yield  the  fight  to  thee.  For  firfl  and 
bloodiefl  in  the  war  my  arm  Ihall  teach  thee 
how  to  figlit.  But,  remember,  my  fon,  to 
place  this  fword,  this  bow,  and  the  horn  of  my 

deer. 


Book  IV.     An   EPIC   POEM.  79 

deer,  within  that  dark  and  narrow  houfe,  whofc 
mark  is  one  gray  ftone.  Ofcar,  I  have  no  love 
to  leave  to  the  care  of  my  fon ;  for  graceful 
Evirallln  is  no  more,  the  lovely  daughter  of 
Branno. 

Such  were  our  words,  when  Gaul's  loud 
voice  came  growing  on  the  wind.  He  waved  on 
high  the  fword  of  his  father,  and  rufhed  to 
death  and  wounds. 

As  waves  white-bubbling  over  the  deep  come 
fwelling,  roaring  onj  as  rocks  of  ooze  meet 
roaring  waves  :  fo  foes  attacked  and  fought. 
Man  met  with  man,  and  fteel  with  fteel. 
Shields  found  ;  men  fall.  As  a  hundred  ham- 
mers on  the  fon  of  the  furnace,  fo  rofe,  fo 
rung  their  fwords. 

Gaul  rufhed  on  like  a  whirlwind  in  Ardven. 
The  deftrudion  of  heroes  Is  on  his  fword. 
Swaran  was  like  the  fire  of  the  dcfart  in  the 
echoing  heath  of  Gormal.  How  can  I  give  to 
the  fong'  the  death  of  many  fpears  ?  My  fword 
rofe  high,  and  flamed  in  the  ftrife  of  blood. 
And,  Ofcar,  terrible  wcrt  thou,  my  Ix^ft,  my 
greateft  fon!  I  rejoiced  in  my  fccrct  foul,  when 
his  fword  flamed  over  the  flaln.  They  fled 
amain  through  Lena's  heath  :  and  wc  purfucd 
and  flew.  As  ftoncs  that  bound  from  rock  to 
rock }  as  axes  in  echoing  woods ;  as  tluindcr 
4  rolls 


to^  F    I    N    G    A    L,  Book  IV. 

roils,  from  hill  to  hill  ia  difmal  broken  peals ;  {a 
blow  fuccceded  to  blow,  and  death  to  death'/ 
from  the  hand  of  Ofcar  *  and  mine. 

But  Swarah  clofcd  round  Morni's  fon,  as 
the  flrcngth  of  the  tide  of  Iniftorc.  The  king 
half-rofe  from  his  hill  at  the  fight,  and  half- 
afTumed  the  fpcar.  Go,  Ullin,  go,  my  aged 
bard,  begun  the  king  of  Morven.  Remind  the 
mighty  Gaul  of  battle  ;  remind  him  of  his  fa- 
thers. Support  the  yielding  fight  with  fong; 
for  fong  enlivens  war.  Tall  Ullin  went,  with 
fieps  of  age,  and  fpoke  to  the  king  of  fwords. 

Son  'j-  of  the  chief  of  generous  fteeds  !  high- 
bounding  king  of  fpears.  Strong  arm  in  every 
perilous  toil.  Hard  heart  that  never  yields. 
Chief  of  the  pointed  arms  of  death.  Cut  down 
the  foe  j  let  no  white   fail  bound   round  dark 


*  Ofuan  never  falls  to  gtvc  a  fine  clir.raficr  of  his  beloved  fan. 
Kis  fpeech  to  bis  father  is  that  of  a  hero  ;  it  contains  the  fubmif- 
f)OU  due  to  a  parent,  and  the  w.irmih  that  becomes  a  young  war- 
rior. There  is  a  propriety  in  dwelling  here  on  the  afiions  of 
Ofcar,  as  tl;c  beautiful  i\'Ialv'ina,  to  whom  the  book  is  addre/Ted, 
was  in  love  with  that  hero. 

f  The  war- fong  of  Ullin  vanes  from  the  refi  of  the  poem  in 
the  vcrfilTcation.  It  runs  down  like  a  torrent;  and  confifls  al- 
mofl:  iiitircly  of  epithe^5.  The  cullom  of  encouraging  men  in 
l-;attle  with  extempore  rhymes,  has  been  carried  down  almoft  to 
cur  ov.n  rimes.  Several  of  the'c  war-fongs  are  extant,  but  the 
niofiofihem  are  only  a  group  of  epithets,  without  beauty  or 
hr.rmo::y,  utterly  deilitttte  of  poetical  merit. 

Iniftore. 


Book  IV.     An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  8i 

Iniftore.  Be  thine  arm  like  thunder.  Thine 
eyes  like  fire,  thy  heart  of  folid  rock.  Whirl 
round  thy  fword  as  a  meteor  at  night,  and  lift 
thy  fhield  like  the  flame  of  death.  Son  of  the 
chief  of  generous  fteeds,  cut  down  the  foe;  de- 

ftroy. The    hero's   heart   beat    high.     But 

Swaran  came  with  battle.  He  cleft  the  lliield  of 
Gaul  in  twain  ;  and  the  fons  of  the  defart  fled.   . 

Now  Fingal  arofe  in  his  might,  and  thrice  he 
reared  his  voice.     Cromla  anfwered  around,  and 

the  fons  of  the  defart  flood  ftill. They  bent 

their  red  faces  to  earth,  alhamed  at  the  prefence 
of  Fingal.  He  came  like  a  cloud  of  rain  in  the 
days  of  the  fun,  when  flow  it  rolls  on  the  hill, 
and  fields  expert  the  fhower.  Swaran  beheld  the 
terrible  king  of  Morven,  and  flopped  in  the 
midfl  of  his  courfe.  Dark  he  leaned  on  his 
fpear,  rolling  his  red  eyes  around.  Silent  and 
tall  he  feemed  as  an  oak  on  the  banks  of  Lubar, 
which  had  its  branches  blafled  of  o  d  by  the 
lightning  of  heaven.  It  bends  over  the  flream, 
imd  the  gray  mofs  whittles  in  the  wind  :  fo  flood 
the  king.  Then  flowly  lie  retired  to  the  rifing 
heath  of  Lena.  His  thoufands  pour  around  the 
hero,  and  the  darkncfs  of  battle  gathers  on  the 
hill. 

Fingal,  like  a  beam  from  heaven,  fhone  in 
the   midfl   of  his  people.     His    heroes  gather 

G  around 


ii  F    I    N    G    A    L,  BooKlV. 

around  him,  and  he  fends  forth  the  voice  of  his 
Jjower.  Raife  my  ftandards  *  on  high, — fpread 
them  on  Lena's  wind,  like  the  flames  of  an  hun- 
dred hills.  Let  them  found  on  the  winds  of 
Erinj  ^nd  remind  us  of  the  fight.  Ye  fons  of 
the  roaring  ftreams,  that  pour  from  a  thoufand 
hills,  be  near  the  king  of  Morven  :  attend  to 
the  words  of  his  power.  Gaul  ftrongeft  arm  of 
death  !  O  Ofcar,  of  the  future  fights  ;  Connal, 
Ion  of  the  blue  i^eel  of  Sora ;  Dermid  of  the 
dark-brown  hair,  and  Offian  king  of  many 
fongs,  be  near  your  father's  arm. 

We  reared  the  fun-beam  t  ^^  battle ;  the 
ftandard  of  the  king*  Each  hero's  foul  exulted 
with  joy,  as,  waving,  it  .flew  on  the  wind.  It 
was  ftudded  with  gold  above,  as  the  blue  wide 
Ibell  of  the  nightly  iky.  Each  hero  had  his 
flandard  too  j  and  each  his  gloomy  men. 

Behold,  faid  the  king  of  generous  lhells,how 

Lochlin  divides  on  Lena. They  ftand  like 

broken  clouds  on  the  hill,  or  an  half  confumed 
grove  of  oaks  -,  when  we  ice  the  %  through 

*  Th'  imperial  enfign,  which  full  high  advanc'd, 

Shone  like  a  meteor  ttreaming  to  the  wind. 

Milton. 

t  Fingal's  ftandard  was  diilinguiflied  by  the  name  oi  fun-beajn', 
prolr.ihly  on  account  of  its  bright  colour,  and  its  being  ftudded 
with  gold.  To  begin  a  batllc  is  oxprcflcd,  in  old  compofition, 
by  lifii^'-g  of  ih'i  fiin-bcam, 

its 


JBoQKlV.        An    EPIC    POEM.  83 

its  branches,  and  the  meteor  paffing  behind. 
Let  every  chief  among  the  friends  of  Fingal  take 
a  dark  troop  of  thofe  that  frown  fo  high  j  nor 
let  a  fon  of  the  echoing  groves  bound  on  the 
waves  of  Iniftore. 

Mine,  faid  Gaul,  be  the  feven   chiefs  that 

eame  from  Lano's  lake. Let  Iniftore's  dark 

king,  faid  Ofcar,  come  to  the  fword  of  Offian*s 

fon. To  mine  the  king  of  Inifcon,  faidCon- 

nal,  heart  of  fteel!  Or  Mudan's  chief  or  I,  faid 
brown-haired  Dermid,  Ihall  fleep  on  clay-cold 
earth.  My  choice,  though  now  fo  weak  and 
dark,  was  Terman's  battling  king  j  I  promifcd 
with   my  hand  to  win  the  hero's  dark-brown 

ihicld. Bleft  and  victorious  be  my  chiefs,  faid 

Fingal  of  the  mildcft  look  ;  Swaran,  king  of 
roaring  waves,  thou  art  the  choice  of  Fingal. 

Now,  like  an  hundred  different  winds  that 
pour  through  many  vales  j  divided,  dark,  the 
forts  of  the  hill  advanced,  and  Cromla  echoed 
around. 

How  can  I  relate  the  deaths  when  we  clofed 
in  the  ftrife  of  our  fteel?  O  daughter  of  Tof- 
clr  !  bloody  were  our  hands  !  The  gloomy 
ranks  of  Lochlin  fell  like  the  banks  of  the  roar- 
ing   Cona. Our   arms   were   vii^orious    on 

Lena  j  each  chief  fulfilled  his  promife.  Befidc 
the  murmur  of  Branno  thou  didft  often  fit,  O 

G  2  maid  3 


84  F    I    N    G    A    L,        Book  IV. 

maid ;  when  thy  white  bofom  rofe  frequent,  like  ^ 
the  down  of  the  fvvan  when  flow  Ihe  fails  the 

lake,  and  lidelong  winds  are  blowing. ^Thou 

haft  feen  the  fun  *  retire  red  and  flow  behind     « 
his  cloud  J  night  gathering  round  on  the  moun-     ' 
tain,  while  the  unfrequent  blaft  •f  roared  in  nar- 
row vales.     At  length  the  rain  beats  hard  ;  and 
thunder  rolls  in   peals.     Lightning  glances  on 
the  rocks.     Spirits  ride  on  beams  of  fire.     And 


*  Sol  quoque  l£  exorlem  l£  cum/e  condtt  in  undas 
Signa  dahit.     So/em  certijjima  fignafei^uuntury 
JJt  qua  mane  refert,  fe"  qua:  fiirgenlihus  ajlris. 
Ilk  ubi  na/centem  fnactdn  varia'verit  ortum 
Cotid'ttus  in  nubeniy  meaioque  refugerit  or  be  ; 
Su/pe£ti  tihifunt  imbres.  ViRG. 

Above  the  reft  the  fun,  who  never  jies, 
Foretels  the  change  cf  weather  in  the  fkies. 
For  if  he  rife,  unwilling  to  his  race. 
Clouds  on  his  brow  and  fpots  upon  his  face  ; 
Or  if  thro'  mifls  he  fhocts  his  fullen  beams. 
Frugal  of  light,  in  loofe  and  ftraggiing  flreams, 
Sufpedl  a  drilling  day.  D  r  y  d  J  N, 

•j-  Continuo  ^-ejit  is  fur  genii  bus  aut  freta  ponti 
Incipiu7it  agitata  tumefcere  ;  y  aridus  alt  is 
Montibus  audiri  fragor,  aut  refjiiantia  longe 
Littora  m'/ceriy  Cif  neimrum  iticrebe/cere  munnur. 

ViRG. 

For  ere  the  rifing  winds  begin  to  roar. 

The  working  feas  advance  to  wafh  the  fhore ; 

Soft  whiipcrs  run  along  the  leafy  wood, 

And  mountains  whiftle  to  the  murm 'ring  flood. 

Dryden. 

the 


Book  IV.      An    E  P  I C    P  O  E  M.  85 

the  ftrength  of  the  mountain-ftreams  *  comes 
roaring  down  the  hills.  Such  was  the  noife  of 
battle,  maid  of  the  arms  of  fnow.  Why, 
daughter  of  the  hill,  that  tear  ?  the  maids  of 
Lochlin  have  caufe  to  weep.  The  people  of 
their  country  fell,  for  bloody  was  the  blue^  fteel 
of  the  race  of  my  heroes.  But  I  am  fad,  for- 
lorn, and  blind  j  and  no  more  the  companion 
of  heroes.  Give,  lovely  maid,  to  me  thy 
tears,  for  I  have  fcen  the  tombs  of  all  my 
friends. 

It  was  then  by  Flngal's  hand  a  hero  fell,  to 

his  grief. Gray-haired  he  rolled  in  the  duft, 

and  lifted  his  faint  eyes  to  the  king.  And  is  it 
by  me  thou  haft  fallen,  faid  the  fon  of  Comhal, 
thou  friend  of  Agandccca  !  I  faw  thy  tears  for 
the  maid  of  my  love  in  the  halls  of  the  bloody 
Starno.  I'hou  haft  been  the  foe  of  the  foes  of 
my  love,  and  haft  thou  fallen  by  my  hand  ? 
Ralfe,  Uilin,  raife  the  grave  of  the  fon  of  Ma- 
thon  :  and  give  his  name  to  the  fong  of  Agan- 
decca ;  for  dear  to  my  foul  haft  thou  been,  thou 
darkly-dwelling  maid  of  Ardven. 

J  ruunt  de  mcntihus  avvus.  V i  r  g. 

The  rapid  rains,  dcicending  from  the  hil's, 
To  rolling  torreiib  I'well  the  creeping  rill.-;. 

Dryden. 

G    3  CUCHULLIN, 


86  F    I    N    G    A    L,        Book  IV, 

CucHULLiN,  from  the  cave  of  Cromla,  hear4 
the  noife  of  the  troubled  war.  He  called  to 
Connal  chief  of  fwords,  and  Carril  of  other 
times.  The  gray-haired  heroes  heard  his  voice, 
and  took  their  afpen  fpears.  They  came,  and 
faw  the  tide  of  battle,  like  the  crowded  waves  of 
the  ocean  ;  when  the  dark  wind  blows  from  the 
deep,  and  rolls  the  billows  through  the  fandy 
vale. 

CucHULLiN  kindled  at  the  fight,  and  dark- 
nefs  gathered  on  his  brow.  His  hand  is  on  the 
fword  of  his  fathers  :  his  red-rolling  eyes  on  the 
foe.  He  thrice  attempted  to  rufh  to  battle,  and 
thrice  did  Connal  flop  him.  Chief  of  the  iflc 
of  mift,  he  faid,  Fingal  fubdues  the  foe.  Seek 
not  a  part  of  the  fame  of  the  king  ;  himfelf  is 
like  a  ftorm. 

Then,  Carril,  go,  replied  the  chief,  and 
greet  the  king  of  Morven.  When  Lochlin  falls 
away  like  a  ftream  after  rain,  and  the  noife  of 
the  battle  is  over,  then  be  thy  voice  fweet  in  his 
ear  to  praife  the  king  of  fwords.  Give  him  the 
fword  of  Caithbat ;  for  Cuchullin  is  v/orthy  no 
more  to  lift  the  arms  of  his  fathers. 

But,  O  ye  ghofts  of  the  lonely  Cromla  !  ye 
fouls  of  chiefs  that  are  no  more  !  be  ye  the  com- 
panions of  Cuchallin,  and  talk  to  him  in  the 
cave  of  his  borrow.     For  never  more  iball  I  be 

renowned 


Book  IV.       An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  87 

renowned  among  the  mighty  in  the  laijd.  I  am 
like  a  beam  that  has  fhone  ;  like  a  mift  that  fled 
away,  when  the  blaft  of  the  morning  came, 
and  brightened  the  Ihaggy  fide  of  the  hill.  Con- 
nal,  talk  of  arms  no  more :  departed  is  my 
fame.-— My  fighs  fliall  be  on  Cromla'§  wind, 

till  my  footfteps  ceafe  to  be  feen. And  thou, 

white-bofom'd  Bragela,  mourn  over  the  fall  of 
my  fame ;  for,  vanquillied,  I  will  never  return 
^o  thee,  thou  fun-beam  of  Dunfcaich, 


G  4  F  I  N  G  A  L, 


F    I    N     G     A     L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


BOOK     V. 


ARGUMENT    to    BookV. 

Cuchullin  and  Connaljlill  remain  on  the  hill.  Fingal 
and  Swaran  meet  -,  the  combat  is  defcrihed,  Swa^ 
ran  is  overcome,  bound  and  delivered  over  as  a 
prifoner  to  the  care  of  OJfian  and  Gaul  the  Jon  of 
Morni ',  Fingal,  his  younger  fons,  and  Of  car  ^ 
flill  furfue  the  enemy.  The  epifode  of  Orla  a 
chief  of  Lochlin,  who  was  mortally  wounded  in 
the  battle,  is  introduced.  Fingal,  touched  with 
the  death  of  Orla,  orders  the  purfuit  to  be  dif- 
continued ;  and  calling  his  fons  together,  he  is  in- 
formed that  Ryno,  the  youngeji  of  them,  was 
killed.  He  laments  his  death,  hears  the  Jlory  of 
Lamdarg  and  Gelchoffa,  and  returns  towards  th&i 
place  where  he  had  left  Swaran.  Carril,  who  had 
been  fent  by  Cuchullin  to  congratulate  Firigal  on 
his  vi^ory,  comes  in  the  mean  time  to  OJfian, 
The  converfation  of  the  two  poets  clofes  the  a^ion 
"/  the  fourth  day. 


[    91     3 

F    I    N    G     A     L, 

AN    ANCIENT 

EPIC      POEM. 

In    SIX     BOOKS. 
BOOK     V*. 

NO  W  Connal,  on  Cromla's  windy  fide, 
fpoke  to  the  chief  of  the  noble  car. 
Why  that  gloom,  fon  of  Semo  ?  Our  friends  arc 
the  mighty  in  battle.  And  renowned  art  thou, 
O  warrior  !  many  were  the  deaths  of  thy  fteel. 
Often  has  Bragela  met  \yith  blue-rolling  eyes  of 


•  The  fourth  day  ftill  continues.  The  poet  by  putting  the 
narration  in  the  mouth  of  Connal,  who  ftill  remained  with  Cu- 
chullin  on  the  iide  of  Cromla,  gives  propriety  to  the  praifes  of 
Fingal.  The  beginning  of  this  book,  «n  the  original,  is  one  of 
the  molt  beautiful  parts  of  the  poem.  The  verification  is  regu- 
lar and  full,  and  agrees  very  well  with  the  fedate  charafler  of 

Connal. No  poet  has  adapted  the  cadence  of  his  verfe  more 

to  the  temper  of  the  fpeaker,  than  Oflian  has  done.  It  is  more 
than  probable  that  the  whole  poem  was  originally  defigned  to  be 
fung  to  the  harp,  as  the  verfification  is  fo  various,  and  fo  much 
iuic^  to  the  different  paffions  of  the  human  mind. 

Jo7> 


92  F    I    N    G    A   L,         BookV. 

joy,  often  has  fhe  met  her  hero,  returning  in 
the  midft  of  the  valiant ;  when  his  fword  was  red 
with  flaughter,  and  his  foes  filent  in  the  fields  of 
the  tomb.  Pleafant  to  her  ears  were  thy  bards, 
when  thine  actions  rofe  in  the  fong. 

But  behold  the  king  of  Morven  ;  he  moves 
below  like  a  pillar  of  fire.  His  ftrength  is  like 
the  ftream  of  Lubar,  or  the  wind  of  the  echoing 
Cromla ;  when  the  branchy  forefts  of  night  are 
overturned. 

Happy  are  thy  people,  O  Fingal,  thine  arm 
ihall  fight  their  battles  :  thou  art  the  firft  in  their 
dangers  ;  the  wifefi  in  the  days  of  their  peace. 
Thou  fpeakeft  and  thy  thoufands  obey  ;  and 
armies  tremble  at  the  found  of  thy  fteel.  Happy 
are  thy  people,  Fingal,  chief  of  the  lonely 
hills. 

Who  is  that  fo  dark  and  terrible,  coming  in 
the  thunder  of  his  courfe?  who  i^  it  but  Starno's 
fon  to  meet  the  king  of  Morven  ?  Behold  the 
battle  of  the  chiefs :  it  is  like  the  fiorm  of  the 
ocean,  when  two  fpirits  meet  far  diflant,  and 
contend  for  the  rolling  of  the  wave.  The  hun- 
ter hears  the  noife  on  his  hill ;  and  fees  the  high 
billows  advancing  to  Ardven's  fliore. 

Such  were  the  words  of  Connal,  when  the 
heroes  met  in  the  midlt  of  their  falling  people. 
There  was  the  clang  of  arms !  there  every  blow, 

like 


BookV.       An    epic    poem.  9^ 

like  the  Hundred  hammers  of  the  furnace  !  Ter- 
rible is  the  battle  of  the  kings,  and  horrid  the 
look  of  their  eyes.  Their  dark-brown  fhields 
are  cleft  in  twain ;  and  their  fteel  flies,  broken, 
from  their  helmets.  They  fling  their  weapons 
down.  Each  rulhes  *  to  the  grafp  of  his  foe., 
Their  finewy  arms  bend  round  each  other :  they 
turn  from  fide  to  fide,  and  ftrain  and  ftretch 
their  large  fpreading  limbs  below.  But  when 
the  pride  of  their  flrength  arofe,  they  fhook  the. 
hill  with  their  heels ;  rocks  tumble  from  their 
places  on  high  ;  the  green-headed  bulhes  are 
overturned.  At  length  the  flrength  of  Swaran 
fell ;  and  the  king  of  the  groves  is  bound. 

Thus  have  I  feen  on  Conaj  (but  Cona  I  be- 
hold no  more)  thus  have  I  feen  two  dark  hills 
removed  from  their  place  by  the  flrength  of  the 
burfting  flream.  They  toirn  from  fide  to  fide, 
and  their  tall  oaks  meet  one  another  on  high. 
Then  they  fall  together  with  all  their  rocks  and 

•  This  paflage  rcfembles  one  in  the  twenty-third  Iliad. 
Clofe  lock'd  above  their  heads  and  arms  arc  mixt  j- 
Below  their  planted  feet  at  diftance  fixt ; 
Now  to  the  grafp  each  manly  body  bends  ; 
The  humid  fweat  from  ev'ry  pore  defcends; 
Their  bones  refound  with  blows  :  fides,  fhoulders,  thighs. 
Swell  to  each  gripe,  and  bloody  tumours  rife. 

Pope. 

trees. 


94  F    I    N    G    A   L,-         BbbK  V; 

tree^.  The  ftreams  are  turned  by  their  fides^ 
and  the  red  ruin  is  feen  afar. 

Sons  of  the  king  of  Morven,  faid  the  noble 
Fingalj  guard  the  king  of  Lochlin ;  for  he  is 
ftrong  as  his  thoufand  waves.  His  hand  is 
taught  to  the  battle,  and  his  race  of  the  times  of 
old.  Gaul,  thou  firft  of  my  heroes,  and  Oflian 
king  of  fongs,'  attend  the  friend  of  Agandecca, 

and  raife  to  joy  his  grief. ^But,  Ofcar,  Fillan, 

and  Ryno,  ye  children  of  the  race  !  purfue  the 
reft  of  Lochlin  over  the  heath  of  Lena  ;  that  no 
veflel  may  hei'eafter  bound  on  the  dark-rolling 
waves  of  Iniftore* 

They  flew  like  lightning  ovfer  the  heathi 
He  flowly  moved  as  a  cloud  of  thunder  when  the 
fultry  plain  of  fummer  is  filent.  His  fword  is 
before  him  as  a  fun -beam,  terrible  as  the  ft  ream- 
ing meteor  of  night.  He  came  toward  a  chief 
of  Lochlin,  and  fpokc  to  the  fon  of  the 
wave. 

Who  is  that  like  a  cloud  at  the  rock  of  the 
roaring  ftream  ?  He  cannot  bound  over  its 
courfe ;  yet  ftately  is  the  chief !  his  bofTy  lliield 
is  on  his  fide ;  and  his  fpear  like  the  tree  of  the 
defart.     Youth  of  the  dark-brov/n  hair,  art  thou 


of  Fingal's  foes? 


I  AM 


Book  V.       An    E  P  1  C   P  O  E  M.  95 

I  AM  a  fon  of  Lochlin,  he  cries,  andfti^ong 
is  my  arm  in  war.  My  fpoufe  is  weeping  at 
home,  but  Orla  *  will  never  return. 

Or  fights  or  yields  the  hero,  faid  Fingal  of 
the  noble  deeds  ?  foes  do  not  conquer  in  my 
prefence :  but  my  friends  are  renowned  in  the 
hall.  Son  of  the  wave,  follow  me,  partake  the 
■feaft  of  my  Ihells,  and  purfue  the  deer  of  my 
defart. 

No  :  faid  the  hero,  I  affift  the  feeble  :  my 
ftrength  Ihall  remain  with  the  weak  in  arms. 
My  fword  has  been  always  unmatched,  O  war- 
rior :  let  the  king  of  Morven  yield. 

I  NEVER  yielded,  Orla,  Fingal  never  yielded 
to  man.  Draw  thy  fword  and  chufe  thy  foe. 
Many  are  my  heroes. 

And  does  the  king  rcfufe  the  Combat,  faid 
Orla  of  the  dark-brown  hair  ?  Fingal  is  a  match 

for  Orla  :  and  he  alone  of  all  his  race. ^But, 

king  of  Morven,  if  I  fliall  fall  j  (as  one  time 
the  warrior  muft  die ;)  raife  my  tomb  in  the 
midft,  and  let  it  be  tlie  greateft  on  Lena.  And 
fend,  over  the   dark-blue  wave,    the  fword   of 

*  The  nory  of  Orla  is  fo  beautiful  and  affe.'^inp;  in  the  original, 
that  many  are  in  poilelfion  of  it  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  who 
never  heard  a  fyllable  more  of  the  poem.  It  varies  the  adion, 
and  awakes  the  attention  of  tiie  reader  when  heexpeflcd  nothing 
h\v  lanj^uor  in  thecondvift  of  thf  poem,  as  the  great  adtion  was 
over  ii!  the  coiiquell  of  Swavan. 

Orla 


,^6  F   1    N   G   A  L,        BookV. 

Orla  to  the  fpoufc  of  his  love ;  that  fhe  may 
fhew  it  to  her  fon,  with  tears,  to  kindle  his  foul 
to  war. 

Son  of  the  mournful  tale,  faid  Fingal,  why 
doft  thou  awaken  my  tears  ?  One  day  the  war- 
riors muft  die,  and  the  children  fee  their  ufelefs 
arms  in  the  hall.  But,  Orla,  thy  tomb  Ihall 
rife,  and  thy  white -bofomed  fpoufe  weep  over 
thy  fword. 

They  fought  on  the  heath  of  Lena,  but  fee- 
ble was  the  arm  of  Orla.  The  fword  of  Fingal 
defcended,  and  cleft  his  fhield  in  twain.  It  fell 
and  glittered  on  the  ground,  as  the  moon  on 
the  ftream  of  night. 

King  of  Morven,  faid  the  hero,  lift  thy 
fword,  and  pierce  my  breaft.  Wounded  and 
faint  from  battle  my  friends  have  left  me  here. 
The  mournful  tale  Ihall  come  to  my  love  on  the 
banks  of  the  ftreamy  Loda ;  when  ihe  is  alone 
in  the  woodj  and  the  ruftling  blaft  in  the 
leaves. 

No ;  faid  the  king  of  Morven,  I  will  never 
wound  thee,  Orla.  On  the  banks  of  Loda  let 
her  fee  thee  efcaped  from  the  hands  of  war. 
Let  thy  gray-haired  father,  who,  perhaps,  is 
blind  with  age,  hear  the  found  of  thy  voice  in 

his  hall. With  joy  let  the  hero  rife,  and  fearch 

for  his  fon  with  his  hands. 

But 


FdoKV.       An    EPrC    POEM.  ^^ 

But  never  will  he  find  him,  Fingal  ;  faid  the 

youth  of  the  ftreamy  Loda. On  Lena's  heath 

I  lliall  die ;  and  foreign  bards  will  talk  of  me. 
My  broad  belt  covers  my  wound  of  death.  And 
now  I  give  it  to  the  wind. 

The  dark  blood  poured  ffom  his  fide,  he 
fell  pale  on  the  heath  of  Lena.  Fingal  bends  over 
him  as  he  dies,  and  calls  his  younger  heroes. 

Oscar  and  Fillan,  my  fons,  raife  high  the 
memory  of  Orla.  Here  let  the  dark-haired 
hero  reft  far  from  the  fpoufe  of  his  love^  Here 
let  him  reft  in  his  narrow  hbufe  far  from  the 
found  of  Loda.  The  fons  of  the  feeble  will  find 
his  bow  at  home,  but  will  not  be  able  to  bend 
it.  His  faithful  dogs  howl  on  his  hills,  and  his 
boars,  which  he  ufed  to  purfue,  rejoice.  Fallen 
is  the  arm  of  battle  j  the  mighty  among  the  va- 
-liajit  is  Idw ! 

Exalt  the  voice,  and  blow  the  horn,  ye  Cbns 
q{  the  king  of  Morven :  let  us  go  back  to 
Swaran,  and  fend  the  night  away  on  fong. 
Fillan,  Ofcar,  and  Ryno,  fly  Over  the  heath  of 
Lena.  Where,  Ryno,  art  thou,  young  fon  of 
fame  ?  Thou  art  not  wont  to  be  the  laft  to  ai>» 
fwer  thy  father. 

Ryno,  faid  Ullin  firft  of  bards,  is  with  th? 

.  awful  forms  of  his  fathers.     With  Trathal  king 

6>f  jhiclds^  ^nd  Tyenmor  of  th?  niighty  deed$. 


9^:  F    I    N    G   A   L,         Book  V. 

The  youth  is  low, — the  youth  Is  pale, — he  lies 
on  Lena's  heath.  :>!{' 

And  fell  the  fwifteft  in  the  race,  faid  the  king, 
the  firft  to  bend  the  bow  ?  Thou  fcarce  haft 
been  known  to  me  :  why  did  young  Ryno  fall  ?- 
But  deep  thou  foftly  on  Lena,  Fingal  fhall  foon 
behold  thee.  Soon  lliall  my  voice  be  heard  no 
more,  and  my  footfteps  ceafe  to  be  feen.  The 
bards  will  tell  of  Fingal's  name  j  the  ftones  will 
talk  of  me.  But,  Ryno,  thou  art  low  indeed, 
thou  haft  not  received  thy  fame.  Ullin, 
ftrike  the  harp  for  Ryno  ;  tell  what  the  chief 
would  have  been.  Farewel,  thou  firft  in  every 
lield.  No  more  ftiall  I  diredV  thy  dart.  Thou 
that  haft  been  fo  fair ;  I  behold  thee  not — 
Farewel. 

Th  e  tear  is  on  the  cheek  of  the  king ;  for 
terrible  was  his  fon  in  war.  His  fon  !  that  was 
like  a  beam  of  fire  by  night  on  the  hill ;  when 
the  forefts  fink  down  in  its  courfe,  and  the  tra- 
veller trembles  at  the  found. 

'  Whose  fame  is  in  tliat  dark-green  tomb,  be- 
giin  the  king  of  generous  lliells  ?  four  ftones 
-with  their  heads  of  mofs  ftand  there  -,  and  mark 
tlie  narrow  houfe  of  death.  Near  it  let  my 
-Ryno  reft,  and  be  the  neighbour  of  the  valiant. 
Perhaps  fome  chief  of  fame  is  here  to  fly  with 
jaiy  ibn  on  clouds.     O  Ullin,  raife  the  fongs  of 

other 


BookV.       An    epic    poem.  9^ 

other  times.  Bring  to  memory  the  dark  dwel- 
lers of  the  tomb.  If  in  the  field  of  the  Taliant 
they  never  fled  from  danger,  my  fon  Ihall  reft 
with  them,  far  from  his  friends,  on  the  heath  of 
Lena.      -  '^-^ ' 

Here,  faid  the  mouth  of  the  fong,  here  reft 
the  firft  of  heroes.  Silent  is  Lamderg  *  in  this 
tomb',  and  Ullinking  of  fwords.  And  who,  foft 
fmiling  from  her  cloud,  fhews  me  her  face  of 
love?  Why,  daughter,  why  fo  pale  art  thou, 
firft  of  the  maids  of  Cromla  ?  Doft  thou  flecp 
with  the  foes'  in  battle,    Gelchofia,  white-bo- 

fomed  daughter  of  Tuathal? -Thou  haft  been 

the  IbVe  of  thoufands,  but  Lamderg  was  thy 
love.  He  came  to  Selma's  mofly  towers,-  and,, 
ftriking  his  dark  buckler,  fpoke  : 

Where  is  Gelchofia,  my  love,  the  daughter 
of  the  noble  Tuathal  ?  I  left  her  in  the  hall  of 
Selma,  when  I  fought  with  the  gloomy  Ulfedda. 
Return  foon,  O  Lamderg,  ftie  faid,  for  here  I 
am  in  the  midft  of  forrow.  Her  white  breaft 
rofe  with  fighs.  Her  cheek  was  wet  with  tears. 
But  I  fee  her  not  coming  to  meet  me  $  and  to 
footh  my  fouV after  battle.  Silent  is  the  hall  of 
my  joy ;  I  hear  not  the  voice  of  the  bard. — 

*  Lamh-dhearg  fignifies  bloody  hand.  GelchofTa,  'tuhitt  Itggti. 
TuaihaJ,  furlj,  Ulfadda,  long-beard.  Ferchios,  tht  conqueror 
of  mm, 

H  *  Bran 


]^o  :h\F    IN    G    A    L/       Boox^Y.: 

jgran  *  does  not  lliake  his  chains  at  the  gate,  glad 
at  the  coming  of  Lamderg.     Where  is  Gel cholTa, . 
my  love,  the   mild  daughter  of  the. generous 

Tuathal  ?  >  i.-.^iui.  i^i  .u..      

Lamderg  !  fays  Ferchios  the  fon  of  Aidon^ 
Gelchoffa  may  be  on  Cromla ;  llie  and  tjie  jnaids 
of  the  bow  purfuing  the  flying  deer.  )  jiVi 
f.  Ferchios  !  replied  the,  chief  of  Cromla,  no 
noife  meets  the  ear  of  Lamderg.  No  found  is  in 
the  woods  of  Lena.  No,  deer  fly  in  my  %ht. 
No  panting  dog  purfues*  I  fee  not  Gelchoffa 
my  love,  fair  as  the  full  moon  fetting  on  the 
hills  of  Cromla.  Go,  Ferchios,  go  to  Allad -f* 
the  gray-haired  fon  of  the  rock.  His  dwelling 
is  in  the  circle  of  llone^  ..He.^mayiltnojy,  o-f 

Gelchofla.         .  ;  .'     ■ix:\-[oy'    ■  r'^  ^M' vriL';  . 

.    Th  e  fon*  of  Aidon  went  i^  and  fpoke  tcy  the.  ear 
.of  age.     Allad  I  thou  that  dwelleft  in  'the-  rock, 

thou  that  tremblefl  alone,  what  faw  thine  eyes 

of  age  ?.     ,  .  ■  r,:;  ool  aiiJ:j:-< 

j;  ■  '■  ■  .    ■.    ■-■■      ■....■  ^'     ■-   :     -^  . 

*  Bran  is  a  common  name  of  gray- hounds  to  this  day.  It  is  a 
cuftom  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  to  give  the  names  dtxhe  heroes 
mentioned  in  this  poem,  to  their  dogs ;  a  proof  that  they  are  fa- 

Tiniliar  to  the  ear,  and  their  fame  generally  known.  . 

■f  Allad  is  plainly  a  druid  :  he  is  called  the  fon  of  the  rock, 

■  from  his  dwellicg  in  a  cave  ;  and  the  circle  of  ftones  here  men- 
tioned is  the  pale  of  the  druidical  temple.  He  is  here  confultcd 
as  one  who  had  a  fupernatural  knowledge  of  things  ;  iiom  the 
drui(^s,  no  doubt,  came  the  ridiculous  notion  of  the  i^econd 
light,  which  prevailed  in  the  highlands  and  iiles. 

I    SAV, 


BookV:      An    epic    poem.  lor 

I  SAW,  anfwered  Allad  the  old,  Ullin  the  fon 
of  Cairbar.  He  came  like  a  cloud  from  Cromla ;' 
and  he  hummed  a  furly  fong  like  a  blaft  in  a 
leaflefs  wood.     He  entered  the  hall  of  Selma. 

Lamderg,  he  faid,  moft  dreadful  of  men, 

fight  or  yield  to  Ullin.  Lamderg,  replied  Gel- 
cholTa,  the  fon  of  battle,  is  not  here.  He  fights 
Ulfadda  mighty  chief.  He  is  not  here,  thou  firft 
of  men.  But  Lamderg  never  yielded.  He  will 
fight  the  fon  of  Cairbar. 

Lovely  art  thou,  faid  terrible  Ullin,  daugh- 
ter of  the  generous  Tuathal.  I  carry  thee  to 
Cairbar's  halls.  The  valiant  fliall  have  Gel- 
chofla.  Three  days  I  remain  on  Cromla,  to  wait 
that  fon  of  battle,  Lamderg.  On  the  fourth 
Gelchofla  is  mine,  if  the  mighty  Lamderg  flies. 

Allad  !  faid  the  chief  of  Cromla,  peace  to 
thy  dreams  in  the  cave.  Fcrchios,  found  the 
horn  of  Lamderg  that  Ullin  may  hear  on 
Cromla.  Lamderg*,  like  a  roaring  ftorm,  af- 
cended  the  hill  from  Selma.  He  hummed  a 
furly  fong  as  he  went,  like  the  noife  of  a  filling 
flrcam.  He  flood  like  a  cloud  on  the  hill,  that 
varies  its  form  to  the  wind.     He  rolled  a  ftone^ 

*  The  reader  will  find  this  pa/Tage  altered  from  what  it  was  in 

the  fragments  of  ancient  poetry. It  is  delivered  down  very 

differently  by  tradition,  and  the  tranflator  has  chofen  that  read- 
ing which  favours  leaft  of  bombaft. 

H  3  tha 


TOi  F    I    N    G    A    L,         Book  V. 

the  fign  of  war.  Ullin  heard  in  Cairbar's  hall. 
The  hero  heard,  with  joy,  his  foe,  and  took 
his  father's  fpear.  A  fmile  brightens  his  dark- 
brown  cheek,  as  he  places  his  fword  by  his  fide. 
The  dagger  glittered  in  his  hand.  He  whittled 
as  he  went. 

Gelchossa    faw  the  filent  chief,  as  a  wreath 

of  mift  afcending  the   hill. She  firuck  her 

white  and  heaving  breaft  j  and  filent,  tearful, 
feared  for  Lamderg. 

Cairbar,  hoary  chief  of  ihells,  faid  the 
maid  of  the  tender  hand  j  I  muft  bend  the  bow 
on  Cromla  j  fpr  I  fee  the  dark-brown  hinds. 

She  hafted  up  the  hill.     In  vain  !  the  gloomy 

heroes  fought. Why  fhould  I  tell  the  king  of 

Morven  how  wrathful  heroes  fight ! Fierce 

Ullin  fell.  Young  Lamderg  came  all  pale  to 
the  daughter  of  generous  Tuathal. 

What  blood:,  my  love,  the  foft-haired  wo- 
man faid,  what  blood  runs  down  my  warrior's 

fide  ? It  is  Ullin's  blood,  the  chief  replied, 

thou  fairer  than  the  fnow  of  Cromla !  Gelchofia, 
let  me  reft  here  a  little  while.  The  mighty 
Lamderg  died. 

And  fieepeft  thoufofoon  on  earth,  O  chief  of 
fhady  Gromla  ?  three  days  fhe  mourned  befide 

her  love. The  hunters   found   her   dead. 

They  raifed  this  tomb  above  the  three.     Thy 

6  fon. 


BookV.       An    epic   POEM.  103 

fon,  O  king  of  Morven,  may  reft  here  with 
heroes. 

And  here  my  fon  fhall  reft,  laid  Fingal,  the 
noife  of  their  fame  has  reached  my  ears.  Fillan 
and  Fergus  !  bring  hither  Orla  ;  the  pale  youth 
of  the  ftream  of  Loda.  Not  unequalled  fhall 
Ryno  lie  in  earth  when  Orla  is  by  his  fide. 
Weep,  ye  daughters  of  Morven  j  and  ye  maids 
of  the  ftreamy  Loda.  Like  a  tree  they  grew  on 
the  hills  J  and  they  have  fallen  like  the  oak  *  of 
the  defart ;  when  it  lies  acrofs  a  ftream,  and 
withers  in  the  wind  of  the  mountain. 

Oscar  !^  chief  of  every  youth!  thou  {ce^ 
how  they  have  fallen.  Be  thou,  like  them,  on 
earth  renowned.  Like  them  the  fong  of  bards. 
Terrible  were  their  forms  in  battle  ;  but  cahn 
was  Ryno  in  the  days  of  peace.  He  was  like  th6 
bow  of  the  fhower  feen  far  diftant  on  the 
ftream ;  when  the  fun  is  fetting  on  Mora,  and 
filence  on  the  hill  of  deer.  Reft,  youngeft  of 
my  fons,  reft,  O  Ryno,  on  Lena.  We  too  Ihall 
be  no  more  ;  for  the  warrior  one  day  muft  fall, 

* u    oTt  TK  o^t'?  nfi'Tiv—  HOM.  II.    16. 

as  the  mountain  oak 

Nods  to  the  ax,  till  with  a  groaning  found 

It  finks,  and  Ipreads  its  honours  on  the  ground. 

Pope. 

H  4  SVCH 


J04  F    I   N    G    A   L,  BoQK  V, 

Such  was  thy  grief,  thou  king  of  hills,  when 
Ryno  lay  on  earth.  What  muft  the  grief  of 
Offian  be,  for  thou  thyfelf  art  gone.  I  hear  pot 
thy  diftant  voice  on  Cona.  My  eyes  perceive 
thee  not.  Often  forlorn  and  dark  I  fit  at  thy 
tomb ;  and  feel  it  with  vciy  hands.  When  I 
think  I  hear  thy  voice  ;  it  is  but  the  blaft  of  the 

defart. Fingal  has  long  fince  fallen  afleep, 

the  ruler  of  the  war. 

TijEN  Qaul  and  Offian  fat  with  Swaran  on  the 
foft  green  banks  of  Lubar.  I  touched  the  harp 
to  pleafe  the  king.  But  gloomy  was  his  brow. 
He  rolled  his  red  eyes  to\yards  Lena.  The  hpro 
mourned  his  people, 

I  jLiFTED  my  eyes  to  Cromla,  and  I  faw  the 
fon  of  generous  Semo.- Sad  and  flow  he  re- 
tired from  his  hill  towards  the  lonely  cave  of 
Tura.  He  faw  Fingal  vi(?loriQUs,  and  mixe4 
his  joy  with  grief.  The  fun  is  bright  on  his 
armour,  and  Connal  flo\v|y  followed.  They 
funk  behind  the  hill  like  two  pillars  of  the  fire  of 
night :  when  winds  purfue  them  over  the  moun-r 
tain,  and  the  flaming  heath  refounds.  Befide  a 
llream  of  roaring  foam  his  cave  is  in  a  rock. 
One  tree  bends  above  it ;  and  the  rufhing  winds 
echo  againft  its  fides.  Here  refts  the  chief  of 
Dunfcalch,  the  fon  of  generous  Semo.  His 
thoughts  are  on  the  battle  he  lofi  j  and  the  tear 

is 


BookV.      An    epic    POEM.  log 

4s  on  his  cheek.  He  mourned  the  departure  of 
his  fame  that  fled  like  the  mift  of  Cona.     O  Bra- 

gela,  thou  art  too  far  remote  to  cheer  th^;  ipui 
of  the  hero.  But  let  him  fee  thy  bright  fonn  iip 
his  foul ;  that  his  thoughts  may  return  to  th^ 
lonely  fun-beam  of  Dunfcaich. 

Wijo  comes  with  the  locks  of  age  ?  It  Is  the 
fon  of  fongs.  Hail,  Carril  of  other  times,  thy 
voice  is  like  the  harp  in  the  halls  of  Tura.  Thy 
words  are  pleafant  as  the  fhowcr  tliat  falls  on  the 
fields  of  the  fun.  Carril  of  the  times  of  old, 
why  comeft  thou  from  the  fon  of  the  generous 
Semo  ? 

OssiAN  king  of  fwords,  replied  the  bard, 
thou  beft  raifeft  the  fong.  Long  haft  thou  been 
known  to  Carril,  thou  ruler  of  battles.  Often 
have  I  touched  the  harp  to  lovely  Evirallin, 
,Thou  too  haft  often  accompanied  my  voice  in 
Branno's  hall  of  generous  fhells.  And  often, 
amidft  our  voices,  was  heard  the  mildeft  Evi- 
rallin.  One  day  fhe  fung  of  Cormac's  fall,  the 
youth  that  died  for  her  love.  1  faw  the  tears  on 
her  cheek,  and  on  thine,  thou  chief  of  men. 
Her  foul  was  touched  for  the  unhappy,  though 
Ihe  loved  him  not.  How  fair  among  a  thoufand 
maids  was  the  daughter  of  the  generous  Branno  ! 

Bring  not,  Carril,  I  replied,  bring  not  her 
jnempry  to  my  mind.     My  foul  muft  melt  at 

the 


io6  F    I    N    G    A    L.         Book  V. 

the  remembrance.  My  eyes  muft  have  their 
tears.  Pale  in  the  earth  is  fhe  the  foftly-blulhing 
fair  of  my  love.  But  fit  thou  on  the  heath,  O 
Bard,  and  let  us  hear  thy  voice.  It  is  pleafant 
as  the  gale  of  fpring  that  fighs  on  the  hunter's 
ear  ;  when  he  wakens  from  dreams  of  joy,  and 
has  heard  the  mufic  of  the  fpirits  of  the  hill. 


F  I  N  G  A  L, 


F    I    N     G    A     L, 


AN    ANCIENT 


EPIC     POEM. 


BOOK     VI. 


ARGUMENT    to    Book  VI. 

Night  comes  on.  Fingal  gi*ues  a  feaji  to  his  army^ 
at  which  Swaran  is  prefent.  The  king  commands 
Vllin  his  hard  to  give  the  fong  of  peace ;  a 
cufiom  always  obferved  at  the  end  of  a  war, 
JJllin  relates  the  anions  ofTrenmory  great  grands 
father  to  Fingal,  in  Scandinavia,  and  his  mar- 
riage with  Inibaca,  the  daughter  of  a  king  of 
JLochlin  who  was  ancejlor  to  Swaran  ■,  which  con- 
sideration, together  with  his  being  brother  to 
jlgandecca,  with  whom  Fingal  was  in  love  in  his 
youth,  induced  the  king  to  releafe  him,  and  permit 
fiimto  return,  with  the  remains  of  his  army,  into 
Lochlin,  upon  his  promife  of  never  returning  to 
Ireland,  in  a  hojlile  manner,  'The  night  is  fpent 
in  fettling  Swaran* s  departure,  infongs  of  bards, 
and  in  a  converfation  in  which  thejtory  of  Grumal 
is  introduced  by  Fingal.  Morning  comes.  Swa- 
ran departs ;  Fingal  goes  on  a  hunting  party  ^ 
and  finding  Cuchullin-in  the  cave  ofTura,  comforts 
him,  and  fets  fail,  the  next  day,  for  Scotland  j 
which  concludes  the  poem. 


[     109    3  * 

F    IN    G     A     L, 

AN    ANCIENT 
.  .  1 

E   P    I   C     P  O  E  M. 

In    SI  X    B  O  O  K  S. 
BOOK     VI*. 

'TT^  H  E  clouds  of  night  come  rolling  down 
•^  and  reft  on  Cromla's  dark-brown  fteep. 
The  ftars  of  the  north  arife  over  the  .rolling 
■of  th€  waves  of  Ullin  ;  they  fhew  their  l^icads  of 
fire  through  the  flying  mift  of  heaven.  A  di^ 
tant  wind  roars  in  the  wood  3  but  filent  and  dark 
is  the  plain  of  death. 

Still  on  the  darkening  Lena  arofe  in  my 
cars  the  tuneful  voice  of  Carril.  He  fung  of  the 
companions,  of  our  youth,  and  the  days  of  foy- 
;ner  years  j  when  we  met  on  tlie  banks  of  Lego, 

•  This  book  opens  with  the  fpurih  night,  and  .ends  on  tke 
morning  of  the  llxth  day.  The  tinxe  of  five  days,  five  nights, 
and  a  part  of  the  fixth  day  is  taken  up  in  the  poem.  The  fccce 
lies  in  the  heath  of  Lena,  and  the  mountain  Cromla  on  ihc  coaft 
<>f  Ulrter. 


fio  F    I    N    G    A    L,        Book  Vi- 

and fent  round  the  joy  of  the  fhell.  Cromla, 
with:  its  cloudy  fteejps,  anfwered  to  his  voice^ 
The"ghofts  of  thofe  he  fung  came  in  their  ruft- 
ling  blafts.  They  were  feen  to  bend  with  joy 
towards  the  found  df  their  praife. 

Be  thy  foul  bleft,  O  Carril,  in  the  niidft  of 
thy  eddying  winds.  O  that  thou  would  come 
to  my  hall  when  I  am  alone  by  night  ! — And 
thou  doft  come,  my  friend,  I  hear  often  thy 
light  hand  on  my  harp;  when  it  hangs  on  the 
diftant  wall,  and  the  feeble  found  touches  my 
ear.  Why  dofl:  thou  not  fpeak  to  me  in  my 
grief,  and  tell  when  I  fliall  behold  my  friends  ? 
But  thou  paffeft  away  in  thy  murmuring  blafl: ; 
and  thy  wind  whiftles  through  the  gray  hair  of 
Offian. 

Now  on  the  fide  of  Mora  the  heroes  gathered 
to  the  feaft.  A  thoufand  aged  oaks  are  burning 
to    the   wind. The  ftrength  *  of  the  fhells 

*  By  the  ftrength  of  the  Ihell  is  meant  the  liquor  the  heroes 
drunk :  of  what  kind  it  was,  cannot  be  afcertained  at  this  dif- 
tance  of  time.  The  tranflator  has  met  with  feveral  ancient  poems 
that  mention  wax-lights  and  wine  as  common  in  the  halls  of 
Fingal.  The  names  of  both  are  borrowed  from  the  Latin, 
which  plainly  fhews  that  our  anceflors  had  them  from  the  Ro- 
mans, if  they  had  them  at  all.  The  Caledonians  in  their  fre- 
quent incurfions  to  the  province,  might  become  acquainted  vyith 
thofe  conveniencies  of  life,  and  introduce  them  into  their  own 
country,  among  the  booty  which  they  carried  from  South 
Britaip. 

goes 


BookVL     An    epic    POEM.  in 

goes  round.  And  the  fouls  of  warriors  brighten 
with  joy.  But  the  king  of  Lochlin  is  filent,  and 
forrow  reddens  in  the  eyes  of  his  pride.  He 
often  turned  toward  Lena  and  remembered  that 
lie  fell. 

FiNGAL  leaned  on  the  Ihield  of  his  fathers. 
His  gray  locks  flowly  waved  on  the  wind,  and 
glittered  to  the  beam  of  night.  He  faw  the 
grief  of  Swaran,  and  fpoke  to  the  firft  of  Bards; 

Raise,  Ullin,  raife  the  fong  of  peace,  and 
footh  my  foul  after  battle,  that  my  ear  may  for- 
get the  noife  of  arms.  And  let  a  hundred  harps 
be  near  to  gladden  the  king  of  Lochlin.    He 

muft  depart  from  us  with  joy.- None  ever 

went  fad  from  Fingal.  Ofcar  !  the  lightning 
of  my  fword  is  againft  the  flrong  in  battle  ;  but 
peaceful  it  lies  by  my  fide  when  warriors  yield 
in  war. 

Trenmor  *,  faid  the  mouth  of  the  fongs, 
lived  in  the  days  of  other  years.  He  bounded 
over  the  waves  of  the  north  :  companion  of  the 
ftorm.  The  high  rocks  of  the  land  of  Lochlin, 
and  its  groves  of  murmuring  founds  appeared  to 
the  hero  through  the  mift ; — he  bound  his  white- 
bofomed  fails. -Trenmor  purfued  the  boar 

*  Trenmor  was  great  grandfather  to  Fingal.    The  ftory  is 

introduced  to  facilitate  the  difmifiion  of  Swaran, 

that 


11^  F   I   S  G    A    L/         BooiiVi/ 

that  roared  along  the  woods  of  Gormal.  Many 
had  fled  from  its  prefence ;  but  the  fpear  of 
Trenmor  flew  it.- 

-  Three  chiefs,  that  beheld  the  deed,  told  of 
the  mighty  ftranger.  They  told  that  he  flood 
like  a  pillar  of  fire  in  the  bright  arms  of  his  va- 
lour. The  king  of  Lochlin  prepared  the  feafi^ 
and  called  the  blooming  Trenmor.  Three  days 
he  feafted  at  Gormal's  windy  towers  j  and  got 
his  choice  in  the  combat. 

Th  e  land  of  Lochlin  Had  no  hero  that  yielded 
not  to  Trenmori  The  fliell  of  joy  went  round 
wkh  fongs  in  praife  of  the  king  of  Morven ;  he 
'that  came  over  the  waves,  the  firft  of  mighty 
men. 

Now  when  the  fourth  gray  morn  arofe,  the 
•^hefro  launched  his  fliip ;  and  walking  along  the 
fllent  Ihore  waited  for  the  rufhing  wind.  For 
•loud  and  dlfl^nt  he  heard  the  blaft  murmuring 
in  the  grove. 

Covered  over  with  arms  of  fteel  a  fon  of  the 
wOody  Gormal  appeared.  Red  was  his  cheek 
and  fair  his  hair.  His  fkin  like  the  fnow  of 
Morven.  Mild  rolled  his  blue  and  fmiling  eye 
when  he  fpoke  to  the  king  of  fwords. 

Stay,  Trenmor,  flay  thou  firft  of  men, 
thou  haft  not  conquered   Lonval's  fon.     My 

fword 


feookVI.      An    EPIC    POEM.  113 

fword  has  often  met  the  brave.     And  the  wife 
-lliun  the  ftrength  of  my  bow. 

Thou  fair-haired  youth,  Trcnmor  replied, 
I  will  not  fight  with  Lonval's  fon.  Thine  arm 
is  feeble,  fun-beam  of  beauty*  Retire  to  Gor- 
mal's  dark-brown  hinds* 

But  I  will  retire,  replied  the  youth,  with  the 
fword  of  Trenmor ;  and  exult  in  the  found  of 
my  fame.  The  virgins  Ihall  gather  with  fmiles 
around  him  who  conquered  Trenmor.  They 
fhall  figh  with  the  fighs  of  love,  and  admire  the 
length  of  thy  fpear ;  when  I  Ihall  carry  it 
among  thoufands,  and  lift  the  glittering  point 
to  the  fun* 

Thou  Ihalt  never  carry  my  fpear,  faid  the 

angry  king  of  Morven. Thy  mother  fhall 

find  thee  pale  on  the  fhore  of  the  echoing  Gor- 
mal ;  and,  looking  over  the  dark-blue  deep,  fee 
the  fails  of  him  that  flew  her  fon. 

I  WILL  not  lift  the  fpear,  replied  the  youth, 
my  arm  is  not  ftrong  with  years.  But  with  the 
feathered  dart  I  have  learned  to  pierce  a  diftant 
foe.     Throw  down  that  heavy  mail  of  fteel  5  for 

Trenmor  is  covered  all  over. 1  firft  will  lay 

my   mail   on  earth. ^Throw  now  thy  dart, 

thou  king  of  Morven. 

He  faw  the  heaving  of  her  breaft.  It  was  the 
fifter  of  the  king.— She   had  feen  him  in  the 

I  halU 


114  F   I    N   G   A  L,        Book  VI. 

balls  of  Gormal  j  and  loved  his  face  of  youth. 

The  fpear  dropt  frorti  the  hand  of  Tren^ 

mor  :  he  bent  his  red  cheek  to  the  ground,  for 
he  had  feen  her  like  a  beam  of  light  that  meets 
the  fons  of  the  cave,  when  they  revifit  the  fields 
of  the  fun,  and  bend  their  aching  eyes. 

Chief  of  the  windy  Morven,  begun  the  maid 
of  the  arms  of  fnow ;  let  me  reft  in  thy  bounding 
Ihip,  far  from  the  love  of  Corlo.  For  he,  like 
the  tliunder  of  the  defart,  is  terrible  to  Inibaca. 
He  loves  me  in  the  gloom  of  his  pride,  and 
fhakes  ten  thoufand  fpears. 

Rest  thou  in  peace,  faid  the  mighty  Tren- 
mor,  behind  the  fhield  of  my  fathers.  I  will 
not  fly  from  the  chief,  though  he  fhakes  ten 
thoufand  fpears. 

Three  days  he  waited  on  the  ihore  ;  and  fent 
his  horn  abroad.  He  called  Corlo  to  battle 
from  all  his  echoing  hills.  But  Corlo  came  not 
to  battle.  The  king  of  Lochlin  defcended.  He 
feafted  on  the  roaring  ihore  ;  and  gave  the  maid' 
to  Trenmor. 

King  of  Lochlin,  faid  Flngal,  thy  blood 
flows  in  the  veins  of  thv  foe.  Our  families  met 
in  battle,  becaufe  they  loved  the  ftrife  of  fpears. 
But  often  did  thev  feaft  in  the  hall :  and  fend 

round  the  joy   of  the  ihell. Let   thy  face. 

brighten  with  gladnefs,  and  thine  ear  delight  in 

the 


# 


Booit VI.    Ai^  EPIC  Poem.       n^ 

the  harp.  Dreadful  as  the  ftorm  of  thine  ocean 
thou  haft  poured  thy  valour  forth ;  thy  voice 
has  been  like  the  voice  of  thoufands  when  they 
engage  in  battle.  Raife,  to-morrow,  thy  white 
fails  to  the  wind,  thou  brother  of  Agandecca,- 
Bright  as  the  beam  of  noon  fhe  comes  on  my 
mournful  foul.  I  faw  thy  tears  for  the  fair  one, 
and  fpared  thee  in  the  halls  of  Starno ;  when  my 
fword  was  red  with  llaughtcr,  and  my  eye  fuU 

of  tears  for  the  maid. Or  doft  thou  chufe 

the  fight  ?  The  combat  which  thy  fathers  gave 
to  Trenmor  is  thine  :  that  thou  may  eft  depart 
renowned  like  the  fun  fetting  in  the  weft. 

King  of  the  race  of  Morvcn,  faid  the  chief 
of  the  waves  of  Lochlin  ;  never  will  Swaran 
fight  with  thee,  firft  of  a  thoufand  heroes!  I 
faw  thee  in  the  halls   of  Starno,  and  few  were 

thy  years  beyond  my  own. When  fhall  I, 

faid  I  to  my  foul,  lift  the  fpear  like  the  noble 
Fingal  ?  We  have  fought  heretofore,  O  warrior, 
on  the  fide  of  the  Ihaggy  Malmor ;  after  my 
waves  had  carried  me  to  thy  halls,  and  the  feafl; 
of  a  thoufand  Ihells  was  fpread.  Let  the  bards 
fend  him  who  overcame  to  future  years,  for  no- 
ble was  the  ftrife  of  heathy  Malmor. 

But  many  of  the  fliips  of  l.ochlin  have  loft 
their  youths  on  Lena.  Take  thefe,  thou  king 
of  Morven,  and  be  the  friend  of  Swaran.     And 

1  2  wheii 


116  F   I   N    G   A   L,        Book  VI. 

when  thy  fons  Ihall  come  to  the  mofTy  towers  of 
Gormal,  the  feaft  of  fbells  ihall  be  fpread,  and 
the  combat  oifered  on  the  vale. 

Nor  lllip,  replied  the 'king,  Ihall  FIngal  take, 
nor  land  of  many  hills.  The  defart  is  enough 
to  me  with  all  its  deer  and  woods.  Rife  on  thy 
.  waves  again,  thou  noble  friend  of  Agandecca. 
Spread  thy  white  fails  to  the  beam-  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  return  to  the  echoing  hills  of  Gormal. 

Blest  be  thy  foul,  thoii  king  of  Ihells,  faid 
Svvaran  of  the  dark-brown  Ihield.  In  peace 
thou  art  the  gale  of  fpring.  In  war  the  moun- 
tain-ftorm.  Take  now  my  hand  in  friendfhip, 
thou  noble  king  of  Morven.  Let  thy  bards 
mourn  ihofe  who  fell.  Let  Erin  give  the  fons 
of  Lcchlin  to  earth  ;  and  raife  the  molTy  ftones 
of  their  fame.  That  the  children  of  the  north 
hereafter  may  behold  the  place  where  their  fa- 
thers fought.  And  fome  hunter  may  fay,  when 
he  leans  on  a  mofTy  tomb,  here  FIngal  and  Swa- 
ran  fought,  the  lieroes  of  other  years.  Thus 
hereafter  Ihall  he  fay,  and  our  fame  fhall  lafl 
for  ever. 

Swaran,  faid  the  king  of  the  hills,  to-day 
our  fame  Is  greateii.  We  ihall  pafs  away  like  a 
dream.  No  found  will  be  In  the  fields  of  our 
battles.  Our  tomhs  will  be  loft  in  the  heath. 
'i1ic  hunter  Ihall  not  know  the  place  of  our^reft. 

Our 


Book  VI.       An    EPIC    POEM.  117 

Our  names  may  be  heard  in  fong,  but  the 
flrength  of  our  arms  will  ceafe.  O  Oflian,  Car- 
ri],  and  Ullin,  you  know  of  heroes  that  are  no 
more.  Give  us  the  fong  of  other  years.  Let 
the  night  pafs  away  on  the  found,  and  morning 
return  with  joy. 

We  gave  the  fong  to  the  kings,  and  a  hun- 
dred harps  accompanied  our  voice.  The  face  of 
Swaran  brightened  like  the  full  moon  of  heaven, 
when  the  clouds  vanifh  away,  and  leave  her 
calm  and  broad  in  the  midft  of  the  fkv. 

It  was  then  that  Fingal  fpoke  to  Carrll  the 
chief  of  other  times.  Where  is  the  fon  of  Semo  ; 
the  king  of  the  ille  of  mift  ?  has  he  retired,  like 
the  meteor  of  death,  to  the  dreary  cave  of  Tura? 

CucH ULLIN,  faid  Carril  of  other  times,  lies 
In  the  dreary  cave  of  Tura.  His  hand  is  on  the 
fword  of  his  ftrength.  His  thouglus  on  the  bat- 
tle which  he  loft.  Mournful  is  the  king  ot 
fpears  ;  for  he  has  often  been  vi(?lorious.  He 
fends  the  fword  of  his  war  to  reft  on  the  fide  of 
Fingal.  For,  like  the  ftorm  of  the  defart,  thou 
haft  fcattered  all  his  foes.  Take,  O  Fingal, 
the  fword  of  the  hero  ;  for  his  fame  is  departed 
like  mift  when  it  flies  before  the  ruftling  wind 
of  the  vale. 

No  :  replied  the  king,  Fingal  fliall  never  take 
his  fword.     His  arm  is  mighty  in  war  \  and  tell 

1  3  \\\)x\ 


Ii8  F    I    N   G    A   U        Book  VI. 

him  his  fame  fhall  never  fail.  Many  have  been 
overcome  in  battle,  that  have  fhone  afterwards 
like  the.  fun  of  heaven. 

O  SwAjiAN,  king  of  the  refounding  woods, 

give  all  thy  grief  away.^ The  vanquilhea,  if 

.brave,  are  renowned  j  they  are  like  the  fun  in  a 
cloud  when  he  hides  his  face  in  the  fouth,  but 
Jooks  again  on  the  hills  of  grafs. 

Grumal  was  a  chief  of  Cona.  He  fought 
the  battle  on  every  coaft.  His  foul  rejoic  d  in 
blood  5  his  ear  in  the  din  of  arms.  He  poured 
his  warriors  on  the  founding  Craca ;  and  Craca's 
king  met  him  from  his  grove  j  for  then  within 
the  circle  of  Brumo  *  he  fpoke  to  the  ftone  of 
power. 

Fierce  was  the  battle  of  the  heroes,  for  the 
jnaid  of  the  breafl.  of  fnow.  The  fame  of  the 
daughter  of  Craca  had  reached  Grumal  at  the 
flrcams  of  Cona ;  he  vowed  to  have  the  white- 
bofomed  maid,  or  die  on  the  echoing  Craca. 
Three  days  they  ftrove  together,  and  Grumal 
on  the  fourth  was  bound. 

Far  from  his  friends  they  placed  him  in  the 
horrid  cij^cle  of  Brumo  ;  where  often,  they  faid, 
the  ghofts  of  the  dead  howled  round  the  ftone  of 

*  This  paffage  alludes  to  the  re'igion  of  the  king  of  Craca. 
ggg  a  note  on  a  fimilar  fubjedl  in  the  third  book. 

their 


Book  VJ.        An    EPIC    POEM.         119 

their  fear.  But  afterwards  he  fhone  like  a  pillar 
of  the  light  of  heaven.  They  fell  by  his  mighty- 
hand,  and  Grumal  had  his  fame. 

Raise,  ye  bards  of  other  times,  raife  high 
the  praife  of  heroes  j  that  my  foul  may  fettle  on 
their  fame  -,  and  the  mind  of  Swaran  ceafe  to  be 
fad. 

They  lay  in  the  heath  of  Mora  ;  the  dark 

winds   ruftled  over  the  heroes. A  hundred 

voices  at  once  arofe,  a  hundred  harps  were 
ftrung ;  they  fung  of  other  times,  and  the 
mighty  chiefs  of  former  years. 

When  now  Ihall  I  hear  the  bardj  or  rejoice 
at  the  fame  of  my  fathers  ?  The  harp  is  not 
ftrung  on  Morven ;  nor  tlie  voice  of  muiic  raifcd 
on  Cona.  Dead  with  the  mighty  is  the  bard  j 
and  fame  is  in  the  defart  no  more. 

Morning  trembles  with  the  beam  of  the 
eaft,  and  glimmers  on  gray-headed  Cromla. 
Over  Lena  is  heard  the  horn  of  Swaran,  and  the 
fons  of  the  ocean  gather  around. — —Silent  and 
fad  they  mount  the  wave,  and  the  blaft  of  Ullia 
is  behind  their  fails.  White,  as  the  mift  of 
Morven,  they  float  along  the  fca. 

Call,  faid  Fingal,  call  my  dogs,  the  long- 
bounding  fons  of  the  chace.     Call  white-brcaftcd 

Bran  j    and  the   furly  ftrength  of  Luath. 

Fillan,  and  Ryno — but  he  is  not  here  j  my  fon 

1 4  refls 


120  F    I    N    G    A    L,  Book  VL 

refts  on  the  bed  of  death.  Fillan  and  Fergus, 
blow  my  horn,  that  the  joy  of  the  chace  may 
arife  j  that  the  deer  of  Cromla  may  hear  and 
ftart  at  the  lake  of  roes. 

The  fhrill   found   fpreads  along  the  wood. 

The  fons  of  heathy  Cromla  arife. A  thoufand 

dogs  fly  oif  at  once,  gi-ay-bounding  through 
the  heath.  A  deer  fell  by  every  dog,  and  three 
by  the  white-breafted  Bran.  He  brought  them, 
in  their  flight,  to  Fingal,  that  the  joy  of  the 
king  might  be  great. 

One  deer  fell  at  the  tomb  of  Ryno  ;  and  the 
grief  of  Fingal  returned.  He  faw  how  peaceful 
lay  the  ftone  of  him  who  was  the  firft  at   the 

chace. No  more  fhalt  thou  rife,  O  my  fon, 

to  partake  of  the  feaft  of  Cromla.  Soon  will 
thy  tomb  be  hid,  and  the  grafs  grow  rank  on 
thy  grave.  The  fons  of  the  feeble  fhall  pafs 
over  it,  and  fnall  not  know  that  the  mighty  lie 
there. 

Ossi  AN  and  Fillan,  fens  of  my  flrength,  and 
Gaul  king  of  the  blue  fwords  of  war,  let  us  afcend 
the  hill  to  the  cave  of  Tura,  and  find  the  chief 

of  the  battles  of  Erin.- -Are  thefe  the  walls  of 

Tura  ?  gray  and  lonely  they  rife  on  the  heath. 

The  king  of  Ihells  is  fad,  and  the  halls  are  de- 

folate.     Come  let  us  find  the  king  of  fwords, 

•and  give  him  all  our  joy. — --But  is   that   Cu- 

chullin. 


Book  VI.      An    E  P  I  C   P  O  E  M.  121 

GKuUin,  O  Fillan,  or  a  pillar  of  fmoke  on  the 
heath  ?  The  wind  of  Cromla  is  on  my  eyes,  and. 
I  diftinguilh  not  my  friend. 

FiNGAL  !  replied  the  youth,  it  is  the  fon  of 
Semo.  Gloomy  and  fad  is  the  hero  ;  his  hand 
is  on  his  fvvord.  Hail  to  the  fon  of  battle, 
breaker  of  the  lliields  ! 

Hail  to  thee,  replied  CuchuUin,  hail  to  all 
the  fons  of  Morven.  Delightful  is  thy  prefence, 
O  Fingal,  it  is  like  the  fun  on  Cromla ;  when 
the  hunter  mourns  his  abfence  for  a  feafpn,  and 
fees  him  between  the  clouds.  Thy  fons  are  like 
flars  that  attend  thy  courfe,  and  give  light  in 
the  night.  It  is  not  thus  thou  haft  feen  me,  O 
Fingal,  returning  from  the  wars  of  the  dcfart; 
when  the  kings  of  the  world  *  had  fled,  and  joy 
returned  to  the  hill  of  hinds. 

Many  are  thy  words,  CuchuUin,  faid  Con- 
nan  "f-  of  fmall  renown.  Ihy  words  are  many, 
fon  of  Semo,  but  where  are  thy  deeds  in  arms  ? 
Why  did  we  come  over  the  ocean  to  aid  thy 

*  This  is  the  only  pnfiljge  in  the  poem,  wherein  the  wars  of 
Fingal  ar^ainrt:  rhe  Romr.n.i  arc  alluded  to  :  — -The  Roman  em- 
peror is  diltinguifhed  in  old  compoiitions  by  the  title  of  /tj'fg  if 

the  nvcr!J. 

t  Connan  was  of  the  family  of  iVIorni.  He  is  mentioned  in  fe- 
veral  other  poems,  and  always  appears  with  the  fame  chara£ler. 
The  poet  pafTed  him  over  in  filence  till  now,  and  his  behaviour 
here  dclcrves  no  better  iifyge. 

7  feeble 


122  F    I    N    G    A   L,         Book  VI. 

fcelle  fword  ?  Thou  flyeft  to  thy  cave  of  for- 
'  row,  and  Connan  fights  thy  battles  ;  Refign  to 
me  thefe  arms  of  light ;  yield  them,  thou  fon  of 
Erin. 

No  hero,  replied  -the  chief,  ever  fought  the 
arms  of  CuchuUin  ;  and  had  a  thoufand  heroes 
fought  them  it  were  in  vain,  thou  gloomy 
youth.  I  fled  not  to  the  cave  of  forrow,  as  long 
as  Erin's  warriors  lived. 

Youth  of  the  feeble  arm,  faid  Fingal,  Con- 
nan,  fay  no  more.  CuchuUin  is  renowned  in 
battle,  and  terrible  over  the  defart.  Often  have 
I  heard  thy  fame,  thou  ftormy  chief  of  Innis- 
fail.  Spread  now  thy  v/hite  fails  for  the  ifle  of 
mift,  and  fee  Bragela  leaning  on  her  rock.  Her 
tender  eye  is  in  tears,  and  the  winds  lift  her 
long  hair  from  her  heaving  breaft.  She  liftens 
to  tlie  winds  of  night  to  hear  the  voice  of  thy 
rowers  *  ;  to  hear  the  fong  of  the  fea,  and  the 
found  of  thy  diftant  harp. 

And  long  Ihall  Ihe  liften  in  vain  ;  CuchuUin 
fhall  never  return.  How  can  I  behold  Bragela 
to  raife  the  figh  of  her  breaft  ?  Fingal,  I  was 
always  victorious  in  the  battles  of  other  fpears ! 

■  •  The  pradllce  of  finging  when  they  row  is  univerfal  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  north-weil  coaft  of  Scotland  and  the  ifles. 
It  deceives  time,  and  inCpirits  the  rowers. 

And 


Book  VI.     An    EPIC    POEM.  123 

And  hereafter  thou  ihalt  be  vidorious,  faid 
Fin  gal  king  of  Iheils.  The  fame  of  Cuchullin 
fhall  grow  like  the  branchy  tree  of  Cronila. 
Many  battles  await  thee,  O  chief,  and  many 
fhall  be  the  wounds  of  thy  hand.  Bring  hither, 
Ofcar,  the  deer,  and  prepare  the  feaft  of  fhells  5 
that  our  fouls  may  rejoice  after  danger,  and  our 
friends  delight  in  our  prefence. 

We  fat,  we  feafted,  and  we  fung.     The  ibul 
of  Cuchullin  rofe.     The  ftrength  of  his  arm  re-  ' 
turned  J    and  gladnefs  brightened  on   his  face.* 
Ullin  gave  the  fong,  and  Carril  raifed  the  voice. 
I,  often,  joined  the  bards,  and  fung  of  battles 

of  the  fpear. ^Battles  !   where  I  often  fought ; 

but  now  I  fight  no  more.  The  fame  of  my  for- 
mer actions  is  ceafed ;  and  1  fit  forlorn  at  the 
tombs  of  my  friends. 

Thus  they  paffed  the  night  in  the  fong ;  and 
brought  back  the  morning  with  joy.  Fingal 
arofe  on  the  heath,  and  Ihook  his  glittering  fpcar 

in   his   hand. He   moved   firft    toward    the 

plains  of  Lena,  and  we  followed  like  a  ridge  of 
fire.     Spread  the  fail,  faid  the  king  of  Morven, 

and  catch  the  winds  that  pour  from  Lena. 

We  rofe  on  the  wave  with  fongs,  and  rullied, 
with  joy,  through  the  foam  of  the  ocean  *. 

*  It  is  allowed  by  the  befl  critics  that  an  epic  poem  ought  to 
end  happily.     This  rule,  in  its  moll  mateiial  circumflances,  is 

oblerved 


124  F    I    N    G    A    L.       Book  VI. 

obferved  by  the  three  moft  defcrvcdiy  celebrated  poets.  Homer, 
Virgil,  and  Milton  ;  yet,  I  know  not  how  it  happens,  the  con- 
clufions  of  their  poems  throw  a  melancholy  damp  on  the  mind. 
One  leaves  his  reader  at  a  funeral;  another  at  the  untimely  death 
of  a  hero  j  and  the  third  in  the  folitary  fcenes  of  an  unpeopled 
world. 


{Such  honours  Hion  to  her  hero  paid, 

And  peaceful  flept  the  mighty  Hedor's  fhade, 

■        Ferrum  adverfo  fuh  ptSlere  condit 
Fewidus.     Aft  illi  folvuntur  frigore  memhrOt 
Vitaque  cum  gemitufugit  indignata  fuh  umbras. 


Homer* 


Pope. 


Virgil. 


He  rais'd  his  arm  aloft^  and  at  the  word 

Deep  in  his  bofom  drove  the  fhining  fword. 

The  ftreaming  blood  diftain'd  his  arms  around. 

And  the  difdainful  foul  came  rulhing  thro*  the  wound. 

Drydem. 
They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wand'ring  fteps  and  flow. 
Through  Eden  took  their  folitary  way. 

Milton. 


C  O  M  A  L  A: 


t      t25      j 

C    O    M    A    L    A: 

A 

DRAMATIC  POEM* 


The  PERSONS. 

FiNGAL.  Melilcoma,  ^dauffhters 

HiDALLAN.  Dersagrena,  Jo^Momi. 

CoMALA.  Bards. 


Dersagrena* 

'T^  H  E  chace  is  over. — No  noife  on  Ardven 

-■"     but  the  torrent's  roar  !  ■ Daughter  of 

Morni,  come  from  Crona's  banks.  Lay  down 
the  bow  and  take  the  harp.  Let  the  night  come 
on  with  fongs,  and  our  joy  be  great  on  Ardven. 

Melilcoma. 

•  This  poem  is  valuable  on  account  of  the  light  it  throws  on 
the  antiquity  of  Offian's  compofitions.  The  Caracul  mentioned 
here  is  the  fame  with  Caracalla  the  fon  of  Severus,  who  in  the 
year  211  commanded  an  expedition  againft  the  Caledonians. — The 
variety  of  the  meafure  (hews  that  the  poem  was  originally  fet  to 

muficj 


126  C    O    M    A    L    A: 

Melilcoma  *. 

And  night  comes  on,  thoii  blue-eyed  maid, 
gray  night  grows  dim  along  the  plain.  I  faw  a 
deer  at  Crona's  ftream  ;  a  moffy  bank  he  feemed 
through  the  gloom,  but  foon  he  bounded  away. 
A  meteor  played  round  his  branchy  horns  ;  and 
the  awful  faces  f  of  other  times  looked  from  the 
clouds  of  Crona. 

muflc,  and  perhaps  prefehted  before  the  chiefs  upon  folemn  oc- 

cafions. Tradition  has  handed  down  the  ftory  more  complete 

than  it  is  in  the  poem. — •"  Comala,  the  daughter  of  Samo  king 
of  Injftore  or  Orkney  iflands,  fell  in  love  with  Fingal  the  fon  of 
OMTvhal  at  a  feaft,  to  which  her  father  had  invited  him,  [Fingal, 
B.  III.]  upon  his  return  from  Lochlin,  after  the  death  of  Agan- 
decca.  Her  paffion  was  fo  violent,  that  fhe  followed  him,  dif- 
guifed  like  a  youth,  who  wanted  to  be  employed  in  his  wars. 
She  was  foon  difcovered  by  Hidallan  the  fon  of  Lamor,  one  of 
Fingal's  heroes,  whofe  love  fhe  had  flighted  fome  time  before— 
Her  romantic  paffiort  and  beauty  recommended  her  fo  much  to 
the  king,  that  he  had  refolved  to  make  her  his  wife ;  when  news 
was  brought  him  of  Caracul's  expedition.     He  marched  to  ftdp 

the  progrefs  of  the  enemy,  and  Comala  attended  him. He 

left  her  on  a  hill,  within  fight  of  Caracul's  army,  when  he  him- 
felf  went  to  battle,  having  previoufly  promifed,  if  he  furvived,  to- 
return  that  night."  The  fequel  of  the  ftory  may  be  gathered 
from  the  poem  itfelf. 

*  Melilcoma,,— /o/i-ro//ifig  eye, 

\  Apparent  dira  faciesy  inimicaque  Tiojig 

Kuwina  magna  deum.  VtRC. 

dreadful  founds  I  hear. 

And  the  dire  forms  of  hoflile  gods  appear. . 

Drydek. 

Dersagrena. 


A   DRAMATIC   I'OEM.      127 

Dersagrena*. 
These  are  the  figns-  of  Fingal's  death. 


The  king  of  fhields  is  fallen ! — and  Caracul 
prevails.  Rife,  Comala  'f>  from  thy  rocks; 
daughter  of  Sarno,  rife  in  tears.  The  youth 
of  thy  love  is  low,  and  his  ghoft  is  already  on 
our  hills. 

Melilcoma. 

There  Comala  fits  forlorn  !  two  gray  dogs 
near  Ihake  their  rough  ears,  and  catch  the  fly-; 
ing  breeze.  Her  red  cheek  refts  on  her  arm, 
and  the  mountain  wind  is  in  her  hair.  She 
turns  her  blue-rolling  eyes  towards  the  fields  of 

his  promife. Where  art  thou,  O  Fingal,  for 

the  night  is  gathering  around  ? 

Comala, 

O  Carun  t  of  the  ftreams !  why  do  I  behold 
thy  waters  rolling  in  blood  ?  Has  the  noife  of 

the 

*  Derfagrena,  the  brJghtne/s  of  a  fun-heam. 
f  Comala,  the  maid  of  tht  pleafant  broiu.  , 

X  Carun  or  Cara'on,  a  nuindtng  ri«u^r.— This  river  retains  Hill 
the  name  of  Carron,  and  falls  into  the  Forth  fome  miles  to  the 
Nortk  of  Falkirk. 

Gentefque  alias  cum  pelleret  arm'is 
Sedibtiif  aut  'viitas  vilem  fervaret  in  ufum 

I  Strvitii, 


tiB  C    O    M    A    L    A:, 

the  battle  been  heard  on  thy  banks  5  and  fleeps 
the  king  of  Morvcn? — — Rife,  moon,  thou 
daughter  of  the  fky  1  look  from  between  thy 
clouds,  that  I  may  behold  the  light  of  his  fteel, 
oh  the  field  of  his  promife. — Or  rather  let  the 
meteof,  that  lights  Our  departed  fathers  through 
the  night,  come,  with  its  red  light,  to  Ihew  me 
the  way  to  my  fallen  hero.  Who  will  defend  me 
from  forrow  ?  Who  from  the  love  of  Hidallan  ? 
Long  Ihall  Comala  look  before  ilie  can  behold 
Fingal  in  the  midft  of  his  hoft ;  bright  a$  the 
'beam  of  the  morning  in  the  cloud  of  an  early 
ihower. 

Hidallan  *. 

Roll,  thou  mift  of  gloomy  Crona,  roll  on 
th6'  path  of  the  hunter.  Hide  his  i^eps  frorh 
mine  eyes,  and  let  me  remember  my  friend  no 
more.     The  bands  of  battle  are  fcattered,  and 

Ser^vifii,  hie  cofitenta  fuos  defender e  fines 

Rcmajlcurigeris  prt£tendit  mania  Scotis  : 

Hic/pe  prcgrejjus  pofeta,  Caronis  ad  undant 

^ erminui  Aujonii  Jignat  di'vortia  regni, 

Buchanan. 
f  Hidallan  was  fent  by  Fingal  to  give  notice  to  Comala  of  his 
return  ;  he^  to  revenge  himfelf  on  her  for  flighting  his  love  fome 
time  before,  told  her  that  the  king  was  killed  in  battle.  He 
even  pretended  that  he  carried  his  body  from  the  field  to  be  buried 
in  her  prefence  ;  and  this  circuraflance  makes  it  probable  that  the 
poem  was  prefented  of  old. 

no 


A    DRAMATIC    POEM.       129 

ho  crowding  fteps  are  round  the  noife  of  his 
Heel.  O  Carun,  roll  thy  ftreams  of  blood,  fot 
the  chief  of  the  people  fell. 

CoMALAi 

(  ^  Who  fell  oil  Carun's  grafly  banks,  fon  of  the 
cloudy  night  ?  Was  he  white  as  the  fnow  of 
Ardven  ?  Blooming  as  the  bow  of  the  fliower  ? 
Was  his  hair  like  the  mift  of  the  hill,  foft  and 
curling  in  the  day  of  the  fun  ?  Was  he  like  the 
thunder  of  heaven  in  battle  ?  Fleet  as  the  roe  of 
the  defart  ? 

HiDALLAN. 

O  THAT  I  might  behold  his  love^  fair-leaning 
from  her  rock  !  Her  red  eye  dim  in  tears,  and 
her  blufhing  cheek  half  hid  in  her  locks  1  Blow, . 
thou  gentle  breeze,  and  lift  the  heavy  locks  of 
the  maid,  that  I  may  behold  her  white  arm,  and 
lovely  cheek  of  her  fbrrow  ! 

COMALA* 

And  is  the  fon  of  Comhal  fallen,  chief  of  the 
mournful  tale  ?  The  thunder  rolls  ^on  the  hill '. 

The  lightening  flics  on  wings  of  fire  !  But 

they  frighten  not  Comala ;  for  her  Fingal  fell. 
Say,  chief  of  the  mournful  tale,  fell  the  breaker 
of  ihiclds  ? 

K  HidallaK, 


igo  C    O    M    A    L    A: 

HiDALLAN. 

The  nations  are  fcattered  on  their  hills ;  for 
they  fhall  hear  the  voice  of  the  chief  no  more. 

COMALA. 

Confusion  purfue  thee  over  thy  plains  ;  and 
deftru(^ion  overtake  thee,  thou  king  of  the 
world.  Few  be  thy  fteps  to  thy  grave  -,  and  let 
one  virgin  mourn  thee.    Let  her  be,  like  Co- 

mala,  tearful  in  the  days  of  her  youth. Why 

haft  thou  told  me,  Hidallan,  that  my  hero  fell  ? 
1  might  have  hoped  a  little  while  his  return,  and 
have  thought  I  faw  him  on  the  diftant  rock  ;  a 
tree  might  have  deceived  me  with  his  appear- 
ance ;  and  the  wind  of  the  hill  been  the  found 
of  his  horn  in  mine  ear.  O  that  I  were  on  the 
banks  of  Carun !  that  my  tears  might  be  warm 
on  his  cheek ! 

Hidallan. 

He  lies  not  on  the  banks  of  Carun  :  on  Ard- 
ven  heroes  raife  his  tomb.  Look  on  them,  O 
moon,  from  thy  clouds  ;  be  thy  beam  bright  on 
his  breaft,  that  Comala  may  behold  him  in  the 
light  of  his  armour. 

CoMALA. 

Stop,  ye  fons  of  the  grave,  till  I  behold  my 
love.     He  left  me  at  the  chace  alone.     1  knew 

not 


A    DRAMATIC   POEM.      tgi 

not  that  he  went  to  war.  He  fald  he  would  re- 
turn with  the  night ;  and  the  kiiig  of  Morven  is 
returned.  Why  didft  thou  not  tell  me  that  he 
would  fall,  O  trembling  fon  of  the  rock  * !  Thou 
haft  feen  him  in  the  blood  of  his  youth,  but 
thou  didft  not  tell  Comala  ! 

Melilcoma* 

What  ^ound  is  that  on  Ardven  ?  Who  is 
that  bright  in  the  vale  ?  Who  comes  like  the 
ftrength  of  rivers,  when  their  crowded  waters 
glitter  to  the  moon  ? 

Comala* 

Who  is  it  but  the  foe  of  Comak,  the  foh  of 
the  king  of  the  world !  Ghoft  of  FIngal !  do 
thou,   from   thy  cloud,  direft   Comala's  bow* 

Let  him  fall  like  the  hart  of  the  defart. ^It  is 

Fingal  In  the  crowd  of  his  ghofts. — Why  doft 
thou  come,  my  love,  to  frighten  and  pleafe 
my  fxDul  ? 

JFingaL. 

Raise,  ye  bards  of  the  fong,  the  war*;  of  the 
ftreanly  Carun.    Caracul  has  fled  from  my  arms 

•  By  the  fon  of  the  rock  (he  means  a  drui'd.  It  is  probable  that 
fome  of  the  order  of  the  druids  remained  as  late  as  tlie  begin- 
ning of  the  reign  of  Fingal ;  and  that  Comala  had  confulted  on« 
of  them  concerning  the  event  of  the  war  with  Caracul. 

K  2  along 


r^2  COM    A  VL    A : 

along  the  fields  of  his  pride.  He  fets  far  diftant 
like  a  meteor  that  inclofes  a  fpirit  of  night, 
when  the  winds  drive  it  bver  the  heath,  and 
the  dark  woods  are  gleaming  around.  •  "^ 

I  HEARD  a  voice  like  tlte  breeze  of  my  hills. 
Is  it  the  huntrefs  t)f  Galmal,  the  white-handed 
daughter  of  Sarno  ?  Look  from  thy  rocks  *,  my 
love  i  and  let  me  hear  the  voice  of  Comala. 

COMALA. 

Take  me  to  the  cave  of  thy  reft,  O  lovely 
fon  of  death  ! 

FiNGAL. 

Come  to  the  cave  of  my  reft. ^The  ftorm 

is  over  "f,  and  the  fun  is  on  our  fields.  Come 
to  the  cave  of  my  reft,  huntrefs  of  echoing 
Cona. 

CoMALA. 

He  is  returned  with  his  fame  ;  I  feel  th?  right 

liand  of  his  battles. But  I  muft  reft  befide  the 

rock  till  my  foul  fettle  from  fear.—  -Let  the  harp 

*  O  my  dove  t'ai  art  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,  in  the  fecret 

flaies  of  tiic  flairs,  let  me  fee  thy  countenance,  let  me  hear  thy 
voice.  Solomon's  Song. 

t  The  winter  is  paft,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone. 

Solomon's  Song. 

O  be 


A    DRAMATIC   POEM,      i^^ 

be  near;  and  raife  the  fong,  ye  daughters   of 
Morni. 

Dersagrena. 
CoMALA  has  flain  three  deer  on  Ardven,  and 
the  fire  afcends  on  the  rock  ;  go  to  the  feaft  of 
•  Comala,  king  of  the  woody  Morven ! 

FiNGAL, 

Raise,  ye  fons  of  fong,  the  wars  of  the 
ftreamy  Carun;  that  my  white-handed  maid  may 
rejoice  :  while  I  behold  the  feaft  of  my  love. 

Bards. 
Roll,  ftreamy  Carun,  roll  in  joy,  the  fons 
of  battle  fled.  The  fteed  is  not  feen  on  our 
fields ;  and  the  wings  *  of  their  pride  fpread  in 
other  lands.  The  fun  will  now  rife  in  peace, 
and  the  Ihadows  defcend  in  joy.  1  he  voice  of 
the  chace  will  be  heard ;  and  the  fhields  hang  in 
the  hall.  Our  delight  will  be  in  the  war  of  the 
ocean,  and  our  hands  be  red  in  the  blood  of 
Lochlin.  Roll,  ftreamy  Carun,  roll  in  joy,  the 
fons  of  battle  fled. 

Melilcqma. 
Descexd,    ye   liglit    mifts   from   high;    ye 

moon-beams,  lift  her  foul. Pale  lies  the  maid 

at  the  rock !  Comala  is  no  more  ! 

•  Perhaps  th«poet  alludes  to  the  Roman  eagle. 

K  3  Fingal* 


$34  C    O    M    A  X    Af 

FjNGAL. 

Is  the  daughter  of  Sarno  c^eadj  the  whiter 
l)ofonied  maid  of  my  love  ?  Meet  me,  Comala, 
qn  my  heaths,  when  I  lit  alone  at  the  ftreams  of 
tny  hills. 

H1DALL4N. 
Ceased  the  voice  of  the  huntrefs  of  Galm^l  ? 
Why  did  I  trouble  the  foul  of  the  maid  ?  When 
ihall  I  fee  thee,  with  joy,  in  the  chace  of  the 
d^rk-brown  hinds  ? 

FiNGAL. 

Youth  of  the  gloomy  brow  !  no  more  Ihalt 
thou  feaft  in  my  halls.  Thou  Ihalt  not  purfue 
my  chace,  and  my  foes  Ihall  not  fall  by  thy 
fword  *. — —Lead  me  to  the  place  of  her  reft 

that  I  may  behold  her  beauty. Pale  Ihe  lies 

at  the  rock,  and  the  cold  winds  lift  her  hair. 
Her  bow-ftring  founds  in  the  blaft,  and  her  ar- 
row was  broken  in  her  fall.  Raife  the  praife  of 
the  daughter  of  Sarno,  and  give  her  name  to  the 
wind  of  the  hills. 

Bards, 
See  !    meteors   roll    around  the   maid  3   and 
moon-beams  lift  her  foul !    Around   her,  from 

•  Thp  fequel  of  the  ftory  of  Hidal!an  v.  introduced,  as  an  epi- 
fode,  in  the  poem  which  immediately  follows  io  this  colleftion. 

their 


A   DRAMATIC   POEM.       13$ 

their  clouds,  bend  the  awful  faces  of  her  fathers ; 
Sarno  *  of  the  gloomy  brow ;  and  the  red-roll- 
ing eyes  of  Fidallan.  When  Ihall  thy  white- 
hand  arife,  and  thy  voice  be  heard  on  our 
rocks  ?  The  maids  Ihall  feek  thee  on  the  heath, 
but  they  will  not  find  thee.  Thou  fhalt  come, 
at  times,  to  their  dreams,  and  fettle  peace  in 
their  foul.  Thy  voice  Ihall  remain  in  their 
earsf,  and  they  fhall  think  with  joy  on  the 
dreams  of  their  reft.  Meteors  roll  around  the 
maid,  and  moon-beams  lift  her  foul ! 

•  Sarno  the  father  of  Comala  died  foon  after  the  flight  of  his 
daughter. Fidallan  was  the  Hrfl  king  that  reigned  in  IniJftore. 

t  The  angel  e:nded,  and  in  Adam*S  ear 
So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  a  while 
Thought  him  ftill  fpeaking,  ftill  flood  fix'd  to  hear. 

M11.TON. 


K4  THE 


[     136    ] 


THE  > 


WAR    of    GAROS*:- 

A      P     O     E     M. 

BRING,  daughter  of  Tofcar,  bring  tlic 
harp ;  the  light  of  the  fong  rifes  in  Offian's 
foul.  It  is  like  the  field,  when  darknefs  covers 
the  hills  around,  and  the  fliadow  growls  flowly 
on  the  plain  of  the  fun. 

I  BEHOLD  my  fon,  OMalvina,  near  themofly 
rock  of  Crona  f  ^  but  it  is  the  mift  t  of  the  de- 


*  Caros  is  probably  the  noted  ufurper  Caraufius,  by  birth  a 
Menapiau,  who  afTumed  the  purple  in  the  year  284  ;  and, 
feizing  on  Britain,  defeated  the  emperor  Maximian  Herculius  ia 
feveral  naval  engagements,  which  gives  propriety  to  his  being 

called  in  this  poem  t/je  king  cf  /hips. He  repaired  Agricola's 

wall,  in  order  to  obdrucft  the  incurfions  of  the  Caledonians ;  and 
when  he  was  employed  in  that  woilc,  it  appears  he  was  attacked 
by  a  party  under  the  command  of  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Offian,  This 
batde  is  the  foundation  of  the  prefent  poem,  which  is  addreiTed 
to  \  alvina  the  daughter  of  Tofcar. 

t  Crona  is  the  name  of  a  fmall  ftream  which  runs  into  the 
Carron.  On  its  banks  is  the  fcene  of  the  preceding  dramatic 
poem. 

X  Who  is  this  that  comcth  out  of  the  wildernefs  like  pillars  of 
fmoke.  Solomon's  Song. 

fart 


I3T 


A       P    O    E    M. 

fart  tinged  with  the  beam  of  the  weft :  Lovely 
is  the  mift  that  alTumes  the  form  of  Ofcar  !  turn, 
from  it,  ye  winds,  when  ye  roar  on  the  lide  of 
Ardven. 

Who  comes  towards  my  fon,  with  the  mur- 
mur of  a  fong  ?  His  ftaif  is  in  his  hand,  his  gray 
hair  loofe  on  the  wind.  Surly  joy  lightens  his 
face ;  and  he  often  looks  back  to  Caros.  It  is 
Ryno  *  of  the  fong,  he  that  went  to  view  the 
foe. 

What  does  Caros  king  of  fhips,  faid  the  fon 
of  the  now  mournful  Offian  ?  fprcads  he  tho 
wings  'f  of  his  pride,  bard  of  the  times  of  old  ? 

He  fpreads  them,  Ofcar,  replied  the  bard, 
but  it  is  behind  his  gathered  heap  j.  He  looks 
over  his  ftones  with  fear,  and  beholds  thee  terri- 
ble, as  the  ghoft  of  night  that  rolls  the  wave  to 
his  Ihips. 

Go,  thou  firft  of  my  bards,  fays  Ofcar,  and 
take  the  fpear  of  Fingal.  Fix  a  flame  on  its 
point,  and  fhake  it  to  the  winds  of  heaven.  Bid 
him,  in  fongs,  to  advance,  and  leave  the  roll- 
ing of  his  wave.     Tell  to  Caros  that  I  long  for 

*  Ryno  is  often   mentioned   in  the  ancient  poetry. He 

feems  to  have  been  a  bard,  of  the  firft  rank,  in  the  days  of 

Fingal. 

•f-  The  Roman  eagle, 

:|:  Agricola's  wall  which  Caraufius  repaired. 

battle  ; 


138        The    WAR    of  CARDS: 
battle ;  and  that  my  bow  is  weary  of  the  chacc 
of  Cona.    I'ell  him  the  mighty  are  not  here^ 
and  that  my  arm  is  young. 

He  went  with  the  found  of  his  fong.  Ofcar 
reared  his  voice  on  high.  It  reached  his  heroes 
on  Ardven,  like  the  noife  of  a  cave  *  j  when 
the  fea  of  Togorma  rolls  before  it ;  and  its  trees 

meet  the  roaring  winds. They  gather  round 

my  fon  like  the  ftreams  of  the  hill ;  when,  after 
rain,  they  roll  in  the  pride  of  their  courfe. 

Ryno  came  to  the  mighty  Caros,  and  ftruck 
his  flaming  fpear.  Come  to  the  battle  of  Ofcar, 
O  thou  that  fitteft  on  the  rolling  of  waters.  Fingal 
is  diftant  far  j  he  hears  the  fongs  of  his  bards  in 
Morven  :  and  the  wind  of  his  hall  is  in  his  hair. 
His  terrible  fpear  is  at  his  fide ;  and  his  fhield 
that  is  like  that  darkened  moon.  Come  to  the 
battle  of  Ofcar ;  the  hero  is  alone. 

He  came  not  over  the  ilreamy  Carun  f  -,  the 
bard  returned  with  his  fong.  Gray  night  grows 
dim  on  Crona.  The  feaft  of  Ihells  is  fpread. 
A  hundred  oaks  burn  to  the  wind,  and  faint 
light  gleams  over  the  heath.  The  ghofts  of 
Ardven  pafs  through  the  beam,  and  Ihew  their 

•  '         As  when  the  hollow  rocks  retain 
The  found  of  bluftering  winds.—  Milton* 

\  The  river  Carron. 

dim 


A       POEM,  139 

jfllm  and  diftant  forms.  Comala  *  is  half-vinfeea 
on  her  meteor  ;  and  Hidallan  is  fullen  and  dint, 
like  the  darkened  moon  behind  the  mift  of 
night. 

Why  art  thou  fad  ?  faid  Ryno ;  for  he  alone  , 
fceheld  the  chief.  Why  art  thou  fad,  Hidallan, 
haft  thou  not  received  thy  fame  ?  The  fongs  of 
Oilian  have  been  heard,  and  thy  ghoft  has 
brightened  in  the  wind,  when  thou  didft  bend 
from  thy  cloud  to  hear  the  fong  of  Morven*s 
bard. 

And  do  thine  eyes  behold  the  hero,  faid  Of- 
car,  like  the  dim  meteor  of  night  ?  Say,  Ryno, 
fay,  how  fell  the  chief  that  was  fo  renowned  in 

the  days  of  our  fathers  ? His  name  remains 

on  the  rocks  of  Cona  i  and  I  have  often  feen  the 
llreams  of  his  hills. 

FiNGAL,  replied  the  bard,  had  driven  Hi- 
dallan from  his  wars.  The  king's  foul  was  fad 
for  Comala,  and  his  eyes  could  not  behold  Hi- 
dallan. 

Lonely,  fad,  along  the  heath,  he  flowly 
moved  witli  filent  fteps.  His  arms  hang  difor- 
dcred  on  his  fide.     His  hair  flies  loofe  from  his 

*  This  is  the  fcene  of  Comala*s  death,  which  is  the  fub'o^t  c( 
•  the  dramatic  poem,  — The  poet  mentions  her  in  this  plac  ,  :n 
order  to  introduce  the  fcquel  of  Hidallan's  ftory,  who,  on  account 
of  her  death,  had  been  expelled  from  the  wars  of  Fingal. 

helmet 


149         The    WAR    of   CAROS: 

helmet.  The  tear  is  in  his  down-caft  ey-es  j  and 
the  figh  half-filent  in  his  breaft. 

Three  days  he  ftrayed  unfeen,  alone,  before 
he  came  to  Lamor's  halls :  the  molTy   halls  of 

his  fathers,  at  the  ftream  of  Balva  *. There 

Lamor  fat  alone  beneath  a  tree ;  for  he  had  fent 
his  people  with  Hidallan  to  war.  The  ftreara 
ran  at  his  feet,  and  his  gray  head  refted  on  hiSi 
ftaff.     Sightlefs  are  his  aged  eyes.     He  hum5| 

the  fong  of  other  times. The  noife  of  HidaU 

lan's  feet  came  to  his  ear :  he  knew  the  tread  of 
his  fon. 

Is  tlie.  fon  of  Lamor  returned ;  or  is  it  the; 
found  of  his  ghoft?  Haft  thou  fallen  on  the 
banks  of  Carun,  fon  of  the  aged  Lamor  ?  Or, 
if  I  hear  the  found  of  Hidallan's  feet ;  where  are 
the  mighty  in  war  ?  where  are  my  people,  Hi' 
dallan,    that   were  wont  to  return   with    their 

echoing   lliields  ? Have  they  fallen    on  the 

banks  of  Carun  ? 

No  :  replied  the  fighing  youth,  the  people 
pf  Lamor  live.  They  are  renowned  in  battle, 
my  father ;  but  Hidallan  is  renowned  no  more, 
I  muft  fit  alone  on  the  banks  of  Balva,  when  the 
roar  of  the  battle  grows. 

*  This  is  perhaps  that  fmall  ftream,  flill  retaining  the  name 
cf  Balva,  which  runs  through  the  romantic  valley  of  Glentivar 
in  Stirlincfliii-e.     Ualva  figuilics  «  ^.f/c;;/" /n-^s;^;  and  Glentivar, 

thgjx^w'i  red  njale. 

But 


A       POEM.  i4t 

^UT  thy  fathers  never  fat  alone,  replied  the 

rifing  pride  of  Lamor  ;  they  never  fat  alone  on 

the  banks  of  Balva,  when  the  roar  of  battle  rofe. 

Doft  thou  not  behold   that  tomb?  Mine 

eyes  difcern  it  not :  there  refts  the  noble  Gar- 

mallon  who  never  fled  from  war. Gome,  thou 

renowned  in   battle,  he  fays,  come  to   thy  fa- 
ther's  tomb. How   am    I   renowned,    Gar- 

mallon ,  for  my  fon  has  fled  from  war  ? 

King  of  the  ftreamy  Balva  !  faid  Hidallan 
with  a  figh,  why  doft  thou  torment  my  foul  ? 
I^amor,  I  never  feared. — Fingal  was  fad  for 
Comala,  and  denied  his  wars  to  Hidallan  :  Go 
to  the  gray  ftreams  of  thy  land,  he  faid,  and 
moulder  like  a  leaflefs  oak,  which  the  winds 
have  bent  over  Balva,  never  more  to  grow. 

And  muft  I  hear,  Lamor  replied,  the  lonely 
tread  of  Hidallan's  feet  ?  When  thoufands  are  re- 
nowned in  battle,  Ihall  he  bend  over  my  gray 
ftreams  ?  Spirit  of  the  noble  Garmallon  !  carry 
Lamor  to  his  place ;  his  eyes  are  dark;  his  foul 
is  fad :  and  his  fon  has  loft  his  fame. 

Where,  faid  the  youth,  fliall  I  fearch  for 
fame  to  gladden  the  foul  of  Lamor  ?  From 
whence  Ihall  I  return  with  renown,  that  the 
found  of  my  arms  may  be  plcafant  in  his  ear  ? 

If  I  go  to  the  Qhacc  of  hinds,  my  niame  will 

not  be  heard.-— Lamor   will   not  feel  my  dogs, 

with 


J42         The    WAR    of   CAROS: 

with  his  hands,  glad  at  my  arrival  from  the 
hill.  He  will  not  enquire  of  his  mountains,  or 
of  the  dark-brown  deer  of  his  defarts. 

I  MUST  fall,  faid  Lamor,  like  a  leaflefs  oak  J 
It  grew  on  a  rock,  but  the  winds  have  overturned 

it. My  ghoft  will  be   feen   on   my  hills, 

mournful  for  my  young  Hidallan^  Will  not  ye, 
ye  mifts,  as  ye  rife,  hide  him  from  my  fight  ? 

My  fon ! — go  to  Lamor's  hall  :  there   the 

arms  of  our  fathers  hang. — Bring  the  fword  of 
Garmallon  ; — he  took  it  from  a  foe. 

He  went  and  brought  the  fword  with  all  its 

fludded  thongs. He   gave  it  to   his  father* 

The  gray -haired  hero  felt  the  point  with  his 
liand. 

My  fon  ! — lead  me  to  Garmallon's  tomb  :  it 
rifes  befide  that  ruftling  tree.  The  long  grafs  is 
withered  ; — 1  heard  the  breeze  whiftling  there* 
—A  little  fountain  murmurs  near,  and  fends  its 
water  to  Balva.  There  let  me  reft ;  it  is  noon  i 
and  the  fun  is  on  our  fields. 

He  led  him  to  Garmallon's  tomb.  Lamor 
pierced  the  fide  of  his  fon. They  fleep  toge- 
ther ;  and  their  ancient  halls  moulder  on  Balva's 
banks. — Ghofls  are  feen  there  at  noon  :  the 
valley  is  filent,  and  the  people  Ihun  the  place  of 
Lamor. 
*  Mournful 


A       FORM.  143 

Mournful  is  tKy  tale,  faid  Ofcar,  fon  of 
jhe  times  of  old  ! — My  foul  fighs  for  Hidallan ; 
he  fell  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  He  flies  on  the 
blaft  of  the  defart,  and  his  wandering  is  in  a  fo" 
reign  land. 

Sons  of  the  echoing  Morvent  draw  near  to 
the  foes  of  Fingal.  Send  the  night  away  in 
fpngs ;  and  watch  the  ftrength  of  Caros.  Ofcar 
goes  to  the  people  of  other  times  ;  to  the  fhades 
of  lilent  Ardven  ;  where  his  fathers  fit  dim  in 
their  clouds,  and  behold  the  future  war. — And 
art  thou  there,  Hidallan,  like  a  half-extinguilhed 
meteor  ?  Come  to  my  fight,  in  thy  forrow,  chief 
of  the  roaring  Balva  1 

The  heroes  move  with  their  fbngs. — Ofcar 
flowly  afcends  the  hill. — The  meteors  of  night 
are  fetting  on  the  heath  before  him.  A  diftant 
torrent  faintly  roars.— -Ui)  frequent  blafts  ruih 
through  aged  oaks.  The  half-enlightened  moon 
fmks  dim   and   red   beliind    her    hill.— Feeble 

voices  are  heard  on  the  heath. Ofcar  drew 

his  fword. 

Come,  faid  the  hero,  O  ye  ghofts  of  my  fa- 
thers !  ye  that  fought  againfl:  the  kings  of  the 
world  !— -Tell  me  the  deeds  of  future  times  j  and 
your  difcourfe  in  your  caves  ;  when  you  talk 
together  and  behold  your  fons  in  tlie  fields  of 
the  valiant. 

Trenmor 


1^4        The  "WAR    of   (!:Al^bS: 

io  ■  i^  I   ."•:  '  '  '■   >''  '•    .y'- 1   -•";  ?'    ..  ■      ..    ?'■'•"'' 
Trenmor  cam^,  froni  bis  Kill,  at  the  voic0 

bf'liis  mighty  foht — ^A  cloud,  UjLe  the  fteed  of 

:;fIJ  .T,     .°.'       .      .'  '  '-     .    •   .'  ■>  -  (I  "    ".      '•:       •    'J.'l 

tne  ftranger,  fupported  .his  airy  climbs.  Mis 
robe  is  of  the  mift  of  Lano,  that  brings  death iq 
the  people.  His  fwor.d  is  a  meteor  half-extln- 
tinguiHicd.  ,  His  lacp  1§  w.itho.u^  .form,  and; 
dark.  He  fighed.  thrice  oyer' the  hero:  and 
thrice  the  winds  of  the  nierht  roared,  around. 

V)Lk  ■'     :    J   ^J   ;  <•;:;;!:  V;;.::-   fn    .::{..   :..      ...   '< .  '     /"S 

Many  were  his  words,  to  Ofcar  :  but  they  only 
pameby  halves  to, our  ears.:  they  w^r^  dark  as 
the  tales  of  otHer  times,  befo^cthe  light  ,o||  the 
fong  arofe.  He  llowly  vanilhied^  lil^e  a  mift 
that  melts  on  the  funnviiill.     ,    .       . 

It  was  then,  O  daughter  of  ToTcar,  my  fon 
begun  firft  to  be  fad.  He  forefaw  the  fall  of  his 
race;'  and,  at  times,  he  was  thoughtful  and 
dark ;  like  the  fun  *  when  he  carries  a  cloud 
on  his  face  ;  but  he  looks  afterwards  on  the  hills 
of  Cona. 

Oscar  paiTed  the  night  among  his  fathers, 
gray  morning  met  him  on  the  banks  of  Carun. 

A  GREEN  vale  furrounded  a  tomb  which 
arofe  in  the  times  of  old.  Little  hills  lift  their 
head  at  a  dlftance  ;  and  ftretch  their  old  trees  to 
the  wind.     The  Warriors  of  Caros  fat  there,  for 


'Cnput  f. hfcura  nit'dumferruglnc icx'tt.  Vi R G . 

they 


A      fr    O    £    M.  145 

tlity  hid  pafibd  the  flr^ani  by  night.  They  ap- 
peired,  likfe  tht  trunks  of  aged  pines,  to  tht 
pale  light  of  the  ttiorning. 

Oscar  fiood  at  the  tomb,  and  raifed  thrice 
his  terrible  voice.  The  rocking  hills  echoed 
around :  the  ftartlng  rbes  bounded  away.  And 
the  trembling  ghofts  of  the  dead  fled,  fhrieking 
on  their  clouds.  So  terrible  was  the  voice  of 
my  fon,  when  he  called  his  friends. 

A  THOUSAND  fpears  rofe  around;  the  people 
of  Caros  rofe. — Why  daughter  of  Tofcar,  whjf 
that  tear  ?  My  fon,  though  alone,  is  brave. 
Ofcar  is  like  a  beam  of  the  iky  -,  he  turns 
around  and  the  people  fall.  His  hand  is  like  the 
arm  of  a  ghoft,  when  he  firetCihes  it  from  a 
cioud  :  the  reft  of  his  thin  form  is  unfeen  :  but 
the  people  die  in  the  vale. 

My  fon  beheld  the  approach  of  the  foe  j  and 
he  flood  in  the  filent  darknefs  of  his  ftTength. 
— — "  Am  I  alone,  faid  Oicar,  in  the  midft  of 
a  thoufand  foes  ?-— Many  a  fpear  is  there  !— 
many  a  darkly-rolling  eye !— Shall  I  fly  to 
Ardven  ?— But  did  my  fathers  ever  fly  !— 
The  mark  of  their  arm  is  in  a  thoufand  battles. 
—Oicar  too  will  be  renowned .-«-^— —Come,  ye 
dim  ghofls  of  my  fathers,  and  behold  ray  deeds 

L  In 


.146        The  fW  A  R  .  of  C  A  R  O  S  : 

J^i,  waij!"^— I  may  fallj  but  I  will  be  renowned 
iil^e  the  race.of  the  echoing  Morven  *.'*  K^te^,, 

He  Itood  dilated  in  his  place,  like  a  flood 
fvvelling  in  a  narrow  vale.     The  battle  came,  but 

jthey  fell :  bloody  was  the  fword  of  Ofcar. 

Jihe  noife  reached  his  people  at  Crona j  they 
came  like  a  hundred  ftreams.  The  warriors  of 
Caros  fled,  and  Ofcar  remained  like  a  rock  left 
by  the  ebbing  fea.  . 

Now  dark  and  deep,  with  all  his  fteeds^  Caros 
rt)lled  his  might  along  :  the  little  ftreams  are 
foft  in  his   courfc;  and   the   earth   is  rocking 

rb'iind. Battle  fpreads  from  wing  to  wing : 

ttri  thoufand  fwords  gleam  at  once  in  the  Iky. 
^^ — But  why  fliould  Oflian  fing  of  battles  ? — For 
iiever  more  fliall  my  fteel  fliine  in  war.  I  re- 
member the  days  of  my  youth  with  forrow  5 

*  This  pafTage  is  very  like  the  foliloquy  of  UlyiTes  upon  a 
Itniilar  occafion. 

.ili^".     ' Sltf/.cf  lyu,  ri  •aecQu  i  f^tyx  (Ay  xotxov,  omct  (piSufjLaiif 
\  ^I^r,6v>  Taj's  >,c-«j*    TO  ^i  ^lytcv  atxtf  ci?\Ou> 

Mavo5*   cVc.  HoM.  II.  It. 

'-■  'Wlmt  farther  fubtcrfuge,  what  hopes  remain? 
o:     AYhat({hame,  inglorious  if  I  quit  the  plain  ? 

"VVhatdanger,  fingly  if  I  Hand  the  ground. 

My  friends  all  fcatter'd,  all  the  foes  around  ? 
•  C- .  Yet  wherefore  doubtful  ?  let  this  truth  fuffice  ; 

'J  he  brave  meets  danger,  and  the  coward  flies  : 

To  die  or  conquer  proves  a  hero's  heart, 
'  -"-  -And  knowing  thi?,*- 1  know  a  foldfer's  part. 
ai  ^I  -»  Pope. 

0  when 


A       POEM.  1^7 

when  I  feel  the  weaknefs  of  my  arm.  Happy 
are  they  who  fell  in  their  youth,  in  the  midft  of 
their  renown  \ — They  have  not  beheld  the  tombs 
of  their  friends  :  or  failed  to  bend  the  bow  of 
their  ftrength.*— — Happy  art  thou,  O  Ofcar,  in 
the  midft  of  thy  rufhing  blaft.  Thou  often 
goeft  to  the  fields  of  thy  fame,  where  Caros  fled 
from  thy  lifted  fword.  ," 

Darkness  comes  on  my  foul,  O  fair  daugh- 
ter of  Tofcar,  I  behold  not  the  form  of  my  fon 
at  Carun ;  nor  the  figure  of  Ofcar  on  Crona. 
The  ruftling  winds  have  carried  him  far  away!^ 
and  the  heart  of  his  father  is  fad.    ,  ,  ^.      r  ;  . 

But  lead  me,  OMalvina,  to  the  found  of  my 
woods,  and  the  roar  of  my  mountain  ftreams. 
Let  the  chace  be  heard  on  Cona  ;  that  I  may 
think  on  the  days  of  other  years. — And  brin^ 
me   the  harp,  O   maid,  that    I    may   touch  it 

when  the  light  of- my  foul   fhall  arife. Be 

thou  near,  to  learn  the  fong  ;  and  future  times 
Ihall  hear  of  Olfian. 

The  fons  of  the  feeble  hereafter  will  lift  the 
voice  on  Cona;  and,  looking  up,,to  the  rocks, 
fay,  "  Here  Offian  dwelt."  lliey  fhall  admire 
the  chiefs  of  old,  and  the  race  that, are  no  more : 
while  we  ride  on  our  clouds,  Malvina,  on  the 
wings  of  the  roaring  winds.  Our  voices  flial I  be 
heard,  at  times,  in  the  defart ;  and  we  fhall  fing 
on  the  winds  of  the  rock. 

T.  z  THE 


t   148  3 


THE 


WAR  of  INIS-THONA* 


A      POEM. 


OUR  ybUth  is  like  the  dteam  of  thte  huhttr 
on  th6  hill  of  heath.  He  fleejis  Ih  the 
mild  beams  of  the  fun  •  but  he  awakes  ainidft  a 
ftorm  ;  th^  rdd  Ughtniiig  ftiei  around  :  ai-td  the 
'trees  fhake  their  heads  t6  thi^  wind.  He  looks 
hack  with  joy  on  the  day  of  thcftrtt,  -ahd  thfe 
pleafaiit  dreams  of  his  rdft  I 

When  ih^W  Offiati's  ybiTt?i  rdtui-n,  or  his  6^ir 
delight  in  the  fdund  of  arrils  ?  When  fhall  I,  like 
Ofcar,  travel  f  m  th6  li^ft  ■  oJF  my  ^Bel  ?''^^ 

•  ItJis-thcna,  i.  t.  ihe  'Jl  nd  of  ivaves,  was  a  country  of  Scan- 
dinavia fubjed  to  Its  Own  king,  but  Seperidihg  upon  the'kfn^doTn 
of  Lochlin.— ^T'his  Voem  is  ah  epifbtle  introduced  Jn  a  great 
work,  compofed  bjr  GfTian^  in  which  thea;.rions  of  his  friends, 

and  his  beloved  fon  OJcar.  were  ir^rerwoven. The  work  it- 

felf  is  ioft,  but  fonre  epif^des,  an^'the  fiory  of  thepoeiti,  are 
handed  dovvn  by  tradifion.,  Thiire  are  Tome  now  living,  \v1io, 
in  iheir  youth,  have  heard  the  whole  rejieated. 

t  Travelling  in  the  grea'tnefs  or  Ki^IfrVngth^ 

'^-  Isaiah  Ixiii.  1. 


OO'!  -y.W 


Come, 


A       P    Q    E    M.  14^ 

Come,  with  your  ftreams,  ye  hills  of  Cona,  and 
liften  to  the  voice  of  Offian  !  The  fpng  rjfes,  like 
the  fun,  in  my  foul ;  an4  my  heart .  feel^  %)^§ 
joys  of  other  times. 

I  BEHOLD  my  towers,  O  Selma !  and  th^ 
oaks  of  thy  Ihaded  wall  : — thy  ftreams  found  iq 
my  ear  j  thy  heroes  gather  round.  Fingal  fit^ 
in  the  midft ;  and  leans  on  the  ihield  of  Tren- 
mor :— his  fpear  ftands  againft  the  wall  j  he 
liftens  to  the  fong  of  his  bards. — The  deeds  of 
h;s  arm  are  heard  ;  and  the  actions  of  the  king 
ih  his  youth. 

Oscar  had  returned  from  the  chace,  and 
heard  the  hero's  praife.-  -He  took  the  Ihield  of 
Branno  *  from  the  wall ;  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears.  Red  was  the  pheek  of  youth.  His 
voice  was  trembling,  low.  My  fpear  fhook  it? 
bright  head  in  his  hand :  he  fpoke  to  Morvcn'j 
king. 

Fingal!  thou  king  of  heroes !  Offian,  next 
to  him  in  war !  ye  have  fought  the  battle  in 
your  youth  J  your  names  are  renowned  in  fong. 
^--Ofcar  is  like  the  mift  of  Cona  :  I  appear  and 
vaniih.— ^The  bard  will  not  know  my  name.— t 

•  This  is  Branno,  the  father  of  Everallin,  and  grandfather  to 
Ofcar ;  he  was  of  Irifh  extradion  and  lord  of  th?  country  round 
the  lake  of  Lego. — His  great  aftions  are  handed  down  by  tradi- 
tion, and  his  hofpitality  has  pafTcd  into  a  proverb. 

h  2  The 


15©     The  WAR  of  INIS-THONA: 

The  hunter  will  not  fearch  in  the  heath  for  my 
tomb.  Let  me  fight,  O  heroes,  in  the  battles  of 
Inis-thona.     Diftant  is  the  land  of  my  war  ! — 

'  ye  Ihall  not  hear  of  Ofcar's  fall. Some  bard 

may  find  me  there,  and  give  my  name  to  the 
fong. — The  daughter  of  the  ftranger  Ihall  fee 
my  tomb,  and  weep  over  the  youth  that  came 
from  afar.  The  bard  Ihall  fay,  at  the  feaft, 
hear  the  fong  of  Ofcar  from  the  diftant  land. 

Oscar,  replied  the  king  of  Morven;  thou 
ihalt  fight,  fon  of  my  fame !— Prepare  my 
dark-bofomed  fhip  to  carry  my  hero  to  Inis- 
thona.  Son  of  my  fon,  -regard  our  fame ; — 
for  thou  art  of  the  race  of  renown.  Let  not  the 
children  of  ftrangers  fay,  feeble  are  the  fons  of 
Morven  ! — —Be  thou,  in  battle,  like  the  roar- 
ing ftorm  :  mild  as  the  evening  fun  in  peace- 
Tell,  Ofcar,  to  Inis-thona's  king,  that  Fingal 
remembers  his  youth ;  when  we  ftrove  in  the 
combat  together  in  the  days  of  Agandecca. 
^-  They  lifted  up  the  founding  fail;  the  wind 
whittled  through  the  thongs  ^  of  their  mafls. 
Waves  lallied  the  oozy  rocks :  the  ftrength  of 

ocean   roared My  fon  beheld,  from    the 

wave,  the  land  of  groves.     He  rulhed  into  the 

f  Leather  thpngs  were  yfed  in  Ofllan's  time,   inftead  qf 
ropesj 

r    :  echoing 


•A  ,oKT  P   o   E   M.'^  «  :r    151 

echoing  bay  of  Runaj  and  fcnt  his  fword  tO: 
Annir  king  of  fpears.  - 

The  gray-haired  hero  rofe,  when  he  faw  tke 
fword  of  Fingal.  His  eyes  were  full  of  tears;- 
and  he  remembered  the  battles  of  their  youth.r 
Twice  they  lifted  the  fpear  before  the  lovely. 
Agandecca  :  heroes  flood  far  diftant,  as  if  two 
ghofts  contended. 

But  now,  begun  the  king,  I  am  old  j  the 
fword  lies  ufelefs  in  my  hall.  Thou  who  art  of 
Morven's  race  !  Annir  has  been  in  the  ftrife  of 
fpears  j  but  he  is  pale  and  withered  now,  like 
the  oak  of  Lano.  I  have  no  fon  to  meet  thee 
with  joy,  or  to  carry  thee  to  the  halls  of  his  fa- 
thers. Argon  is  pale  in  the  tomb,  and  Ruro  is 
no  more.— My  daughter  is  in  the  hall  of  ftran- 

gers,   and  longs  to  behold  my  tomb. Her 

fpoufe  fhakes  ten  thoufand  fpears  ;  and  comes  ^ 
like  a  cloud  of  death  from  Lano,— Come  thou, 

*  Cormalo  had  refolved  on  a  war  againft  his  father-in-law 
Annir  king  of  Inis-thona,  in  order  to  deprive  him  of  his  king- 
dom :  the  injuftice  of  his  defigns  was  fo  much  rcfented  by  Fin- 
gal, that  he  fent  his  grandfon,  Ofcar,  to  the  afliftance  of  Annir. 
Both  armies  came  foon  to  a  battle,  in  which  the  conduft  and  va- 
lour of  Ofcar  obtained  a  complete  viftory.  An  end  was  put  to 
the  war  by  the  death  of  Cormalo,  who  fell  in  a  fmgle  combat', 
by  Ofcar's  hand. — Thus  is  the  ftory  delivered  down  by  tradi- 
tion ;  though  the  poet,  to  raife  the  charaftcr  of  his  fon,  makes 
Ofcar  himfclfpropofe  the  expedition. 

L  4  to 


fp     The  WAR  of  INIS-THONA: 

t&  ihare  the  haJk  of  A^r,   fon   of   QQiujtq^g 

Morven.  i  'f^r- 

Three  days  they  feafted  together;  on  the 
fourth  Annir  heard  the  name  of  Ofcar  *. — They 
rejoiced  in  the  Ihell  ■f' ;  and  purfued  the  boars  of 
Rvma. 

Beside  the  fount  of  mofly  ftones,  the  weary 
heroes  reft.  The  tear  fteals  in  fecret  from  Ani 
nir :  >  and  he  broke  the  rifing  figh.  .  ■  Here 
darkly  reft,  the  hero  faid,  the  children  of  my 
youth. — This  ftone  is  the  tomb  of  Ruro  :  that 
tree  founds  over  tJie  grave  of  Argon.  Po  ye 
hear  my  voice,  O  my  fons,  within  your  narrow 
houfe  ?  Or  do  ye  fpeak  in  thefe  ruftling  leaves, 
when  the  winds  of  the  defart  rife  ? 

JCr^^G  of  Inis-thona,  faid  Ofcar,  how  fell  the 
children  of  youth  ?  The  wild  boar  often  ruftie? 
over  their  tombs,  but  he  ^oes  not  difturb  the 
hunters.     They  purfi^c  deer  :j  fornied  oif  clouds, 

and 

•  It  was  thpught,  in  thofe  days  of  heroilrn,  an  infringement 
upon  the  laws  of  hofpitality,  to  afk  the  name  of  a  llranger,  before 
he  had  feafted  three  days  in  the  great  hall  of  the  family.  He  that 
^Jki  the  name  of  the  ft  ranger y  is,  to  this  day,  an  opprobrious  term 
applied,  in  the  north,  to  the  inhofpitable. 

"f-  To  rejoice  in  the /hell  is  a  phrafe  for  feafting  fumptuoufly  ai^4 
drinking  freely.  I  have  phfefved  in  a  preceding  note,  that  th^ 
ancient  Scots  drunk  in  ftiells. 

;J:  The  notion  of  Oflian  concerning  the  ftate  of  the  decpafed, 
WAS  the  fame  with  that  of  ch^  ancien^  Greeks  and  Romans. 

They 


A      ?    O    %    M.  |$3 

and  ^od  their  ^iry  bow.*«"They  ftiU  iQVf  tb« 
fport  of  theiv  yoijth  5  g.n4  mount  the  wind  witjj^ 

joy* 

Cor  MA  to,  replied  the  king,  is  chief  of  ten 
thpufand  fpears }  he  dwells  qit  the  d^rJc-roJUng 

They  imagined  that  the  fools  purfued,  in  their  fcparaic  ftate,  the 
employments  and  pleafures  of  their  former  life. 

^rma  procu/^  curru/que  •virum  miratifr  inanes, 

Stant  terra  defixa  bajia,  fajjimque  foluti 

Per  campum  pa/cuntur  equi,  qua  gratia  eurruuu 

jirmovumqut  fuit  mvis  ;  qti<g  cur(t  nitentet 

Pa/cere  tquos,  eadem  fequitur  tellurt  repojios. 


Vj?»«, 


The  chief  beheld  their  chariots  from  afar; 
Their  fliining  arras  ^nd  courfers  trajn'd  to  war  : 
Their  lances  fix'd  in  earth,  their  fteeds  around. 
Free  from  the  harnefs,  graze  the  flowVy  ground. 
The  lovcofhoffes  which  they  had,  ^Uve, 
And  eare  of  chariots,  after  death  furvive. 

Dryocit. 
fn  ^\  fUT   ilfftnnfv  $'iv  ' Hfam^niiVp 
^tuuMy-  ■ 

Au»ov  <Q7»7rl»iwii,  aM>  ^«^t<»T»  (two';,  icc, 

H*M.  Qdyff.  II. 
>Jow  I  the  ftrength  of  Hercules  behold, 
A  towVing  fpeftre  of  gigantic  mold  j 
Gloomy  as  night  h«  ftands  in  a£l  to  throw 
Th'  aerial  arrow  from  the  twanging  bow. 
Around  his  breaft  a  wond'rous  zone  is  roll'd 
Where  woodland  monflers  grin  in  fretted  gold, 
There  ful'.en  lions  fternly  feem  to  roar, 
The  bear  to  growl,  to  foam  the  tufky  boar, 
There  war  and  havock  and  deftruftion  flood. 
And  vengeful  murder  red  with  human  blood. 

Popf. 

waters 


iM      The  WAR  of  INIS-THONA: 

waters  of  Lano  * ;  which  fend  forth  the  cloud  of 
death.  He  came  to  Runa's  echoing  halls,  and 
fought  the  honour  of  the  fpear  -f .  The  youth 
was  lovely  as  the  firft  beam  of  the  fun  j  and  few 
were  they  who  could  meet  him  in  fight ! — My 
tcroes  yielded  to  Cormalo  :  and  my  daughter 
loved  the  fon  of  Lano. 

Arc? ON  and  Ruro  returned  from  the  chace  ; 
the  tears  of  their  pride  defcended : — They  rolled 
their  filent  eyes  on  Runa's  heroes,  becaufe  ^hey 
yielded  to  a  flranger :  three  days  they  feafted 
with  Cormalo  :  on  the  fourth  my  Argon  fought. 
• — But  who  could  fight  with  Argon  ! — Lano's 
chief  was  overcome.  His  heart  fwelled  with  the 
grief  of  pride,  and  he  refolved,  in  fecret,  to  be- 
hold  the  death  of  my  fons. 

They  went  to  the  hills  of  Runa,  and  purfued 
the  dark-brown  hinds.  The  arrow  of  Cormalo 
flew  in  fecret ;  and  my  children  fell.  He  came 
to  the  maid  of  his  love  j  to  Inis-thona's  dark- 
haired  maid. They  fled  over  the  defart-— and 

Annir  remained  alone. 

•  Lano  was  a  lake  of  Scandinavia,  remarkable,  in  the  days  of 
Oflian,  for  eipitting  a  peftilcptial  vapour  in  autumn,  y^ad  thou, 
O  faliant  Duchomar,  like  the  mi  ft  of  marjhy  Lano  j  luh^n  it  fails 
ever  the  plains  of  (tulumn^  and  brings  death  to  the  people. 

FiNGAL,   B.  I. 

+  By  the  honour  of  the  fpeqr  is  meant  a  kJi^d  of  tournament 
practifed  among  the  ancient  northern  nations. 


A      POEM.  155 

Night  came  on  and  day  appeared ;  nor  Ar- 
gon's voice,  nor  Ruro's  came.  At  length  their 
much-loved  dog  is  feen ;  the  fleet  and  boimding 
Runar.  He  came  into  the  hall  and  howled  ;  and 
feemed  to  look  towards  the  place  of  their  fall. 

-We  followed  him  :  we  found  them  here : 

and  laid  them  by  this  mofly  ftrcam.  This  is 
the  haunt  of  Annir,  when  the  chace  of  the  hinds 
is  over.  I  bend  like  the  trunk  of  an  aged  oak 
above  them  :  and  my  tears  for  ever  flow. 

O  RoNNAN  !  faid  the  riling  Ofcar,  Ogar  king 
of  fpears  !  call  my  heroes  to  my  lide,  the  fons 
of  ftreamy  Morven.  To-day  we  go  to  Lano's 
water,  that  fends  forth  the  cloud  of  death. 
Cormalo  will  not  long  rejoice  :  death  is  often  at 
the  point  of  our  fwords. 

They  came  over  the  defart  likeftormy  clouds, 
when  the  winds  roll  them  over  the  heath  :  their 
edges  are  tinged  with  lightning :  and  the  echo- 
ing groves  forefee  the  ftorm.  The  horn  of  Of- 
car's  battle  was  heard  j  and  Lano  fliook  in  all 
its  waves.  The  children  of  the  lake  convened 
around  the  founding  (hield  of  Cormalo. 

Oscar'  fought,  as  he  was  wont  in  battle. 
Cormalo  fell  beneath  his  fword  :  and  the  fons  of 

the  difmal  Lano  fled  to  their  fecret  vales. 

Ofcar  brought  the  daughter  of  Inis-thona  to  An- 

nir's 

♦ 

» 


I5«      The  WAR  oi  INIS-THONA: 

nir's  echoing  haUs.    The  face  of  age  was  bright 
with  joy ;  he  bleft  the  king  of  fwords* 

How  great  was  the  joy  of  Offian,  when  he  be- 
held the  diftant  fail  of  his  fon  !  it  was  like  a 
cloud  of  light  that  rifes  in  the  eaft,  when  the  tra» 
veller  is  fad  in  a  land  unknown  j  and  difmal 
night,  with  her  ghofts,  is  fitting  around  him*. 

We  brought  him,  with  fongs,  to  Selma's 
halls.  Fingal  ©rder-ed  the  feaft  of  Ihells  to  be 
fpread.  A  thoufand  bards  raifed  the  name  of 
Ofcar  :  and  Morven  anfwered  to  the  noife.  The 
daughter  of  Tofcar  was  there,  and  her  voice  was 
like  the  harp  ;  when  the  diftant  found  comes,  in 
the  evening,  on  the  foft-ruftUng  breeze  of  the 
vale. 

O  LAY  me,  ye  that  fee  the  light,  near  fome 
rock  of  my  hills :  let  the  thick  hazels  be  around, 
let  the  ruftling  oak  be  near.  Green  be  the  placei 
of  my  reft  ;  and  let  the  found  of  the  diftant  tor- 
rent be  heard.  Daughter  of  Tofcar,  take  tho 
harp,  and  raife  the  lovely  fong  of  Selma  j  that 
fiecp  may  overtake  my  foul  in  the  midft  of  joy  5 
that  the  dreams  of  my  youth  may  return,  and 
the  days  of  the  mighty  Fingal. 

Selma  !  I  behold  thy  towers,  thy  trees,  and 
fhaded  wall.  I  fee  the  heroes  of  Morven ;  and 
hear  the  fong  of  bards.  Ofear  lifts  the  fword  o£ 
Corn^alo  ;    and  a   thoufand  youths   admire  its 

*  iludded 


A       POEM.  157 

ftudded  thongs.  They  look  with  wonder  on  my 
fon ;  and  admire  the  ftrength  of  his  arm.  They 
mark  the  joy  of  his  father's  eyes ;  they  long  for 
an  equal  fame.  ;  ^- 

And  ye  JhMI  hatfe  ydu!"  fatne^  O  fohs  of 
ftreamy  Morven. — My  foul  is  often  brightened 
with  the  fong  j  and  1  remember  the  companions 
of  my  ydilth, — =^But  fltep  defcends  with  the 
found  of  the  harp  j  and  pleafant  dreams  begin  to 
rife.  Ye  fons  of  the  chace  ftand  far  diftant,  nor 
difturb  my  reft.  The  bard  of  other  times  con- 
verfes  now  with  his  fathers,  the  chiefs  of  the 
days  of  old. — Sons  of  the  chace,  ftand  far  dis- 
tant ;  difturb  iiQt  the  dreams  of  Offian. 


;  .  V    1  ■  1  ■ 

u   u  iiir> 

Vftaiz.::. 

::v,'o->   r;    . 

T  H 


\ 


t    'SS    ■] 

-.4 

itiv/^'ooi  y}/i'i' 

THE'  3^""^^ 

;»'•'.' 

BATTLE  of  LORA: 

A       P     O     EM*. 


SO N  of  the  diftant land,  who  dwelleft  In  the 
fecret  cell !  do   I  hear  the  founds  of  thy 
grove  ?    or    is  it  the  voice  of  thy  fongs  ?  The 

*  This  poem  is  compleat ;  nor  does  it  appear  from  tradition, 
that  it  was  introduced,  as  an  epifode,  into  any  of  Offian's  great 
works. — It  is  called,  in  the  original,  Duan  a  Chuldich,  or  the 
Culdie's  poem,  becaufe  it  was  addreffed  to  one  of  the  firft  Chriftian 
miffionaries,  who  were  called,  from  their  retired  life,  Culdees, 
or  fequefiered  per/ons.  —The  Ilory  bears  a  near  refemblance  to  that 
which  was  the  foundation  of  the  Iliad.  Fingal,  on  his  return 
from  Ireland,  after  he  had  expelled  Swaran  from  that  kingdom, 
made  a  feaft  to  all  his  heroes:  he  forgot  to  invite  Ma-ronnan 
and  Aldo,  two  chiefs,  who  had  not  been  along  with  him  on  his 
expedition.  They  refented  his  negleft ;  and  went  over  to  Er- 
ragon  king  of  Sora,  a  country  of  Scandinavia,  the  declared 
enemy  of  Fingal.  The  valour  of  Aldo  foon  gained  him  a  great 
reputation  in  Sora  :  and  Lorma  the  beautiful  wife  of  Erragon  fell 
in  love  with  him. — He  found  means  to  efcape  with  her,  and  to 
come  to  Fingal,  who  refided  then  in  Selma  on  the  wellern  coaft. 
•—Erragon  invaded  Scotland,  and  was  flain  in  battle  by  Gaul  the 
fon  of  Morni,  after  he  had  rejedled  terms  of  peace  offered  him 
by  Fingal. — In  this  war  Aldo  fell,  in  a  fingle  combat,  by  the 
hands  of  his  rival  Erragon ;  and  the  unfortunate  Lorma  after- 
wards died  of  grief. 

torrent 


.    ^A       P    O    E.   M.  159 

torrent  was  loud  in  my  ear,  but  I  heard  a  tune- 
ful voice ;  doft  thou  praife  the  chiefs  of  thy 
land ;  or  the  fpirits  *  of  the  wind  ?— But,  lonely 
dweller  of  the  rock  !  look  over  that  heathy 
plain :  thou  feeft  green  tombs,  with  their  rank, 
whittling  grafs ;  with  their  ftones  of  molTy 
heads  :  thou  feeft  them,  fon  of  the  rock,  but 
Offian's  eyes  have  failed. 

A  MOUNTAIN-STREAM  comcs  roaring  down 
and  fends  its  waters  round  a  green  hill  :  four 
mofly  ftones,  in  the  midft  of  withered  grafs, 
rear  their  heads  on  the  top  :  two  trees,  which 
the   ftorms   have   bent,    fpread  their  whittling 

branches  around. This  is  thy  dwelling,  Er- 

ragon  f- ;  this  thy  narrow  houfe  :  the  found  of 
thy  ihells  has  been  long  forgot  in  Sora  :  and  thy 

Ihield  is  become  dark  In  thy  hall. Erragon, 

king  of  ttiips  !  chief  of  diftant  Sora !  how  haft 
thou  fallen  on  our  mountains  ^  !  How  is  the 
mighty  low ! 

•  The  poet  alludes  to  the  religious  hymns  of  the  Culdees- 

t  Erragon,  or  Ferg-thonn,  fignifies  the  rage  ef  the  nvaves  ; 
probably  a  poetical  name  given  him  by  0/Iian  himfelf  j  for  he 
goes  by  the  name  of  Annir  in  tradition. 

X  The  beauty  of  Ifrael  is  (lain  on  thy  high  places  :  how  are  the 
mighty  fallen  !  2  Sam.  ii.  19. 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen  in  the  midft  of  the  battle .'  O 
Jonathan,  thou  \va(l  flain  \i\  thine  high  places. 

z  Sam.  ii.  25. 

Son 


^So      The  BATTLE  of  LORA: 

Son  of  the  fecret  cell !  do^  thou  delight  In 
longs  ?  Hear  the  battle  of  Lofa  $  the  found  of 
Its  fieel  is  long  fince  paft.  So  thunder  on  tht 
darkened  hill  roars  knd  is  nd  niott.  Tlie  futt 
tetiirns  with  his  filent  bekttis :  the  glittering; 
tocks,  and  green  heads  of  the  mountains  fmilt. 

The  bay  of  Cona  received  our  fhips^*,  fronfi 
Ullin's  rolling  waves:  our  \^'hlte  Iheets  hUtlg 
loofc  to  the  mafts  :  and  the  boiflerous  winds 
roared  behind  the  gro\TS  of  Mofven.-^— The 
horn  of  the  king  is  founded,  and  the  deer  i!ltt 
from  their  rocks.  Our  affoWs  Hew  in  th6 
,  Woods ;  the  feaft  of  the  hill  WaS  fpfeud.  Ouf 
joy  was  great  on  our  rocks,  for  the  fall  of  tht 
terrible  Swaran. 

'  Two  heroes  were  f'orgot  at  our  feaft  ;  and  th^ 
i'age  of  their  bofoms  burned.  They  rolled  theif 
red  eyes  in  fecret :  the  figh  burft  from  their 
breafls.  They  were  feen  to  talk  together,  aild 
to  throw  their  fpears  on  earth.  They  were  two 
dark  clouds,  in  the  mift  of  our  joy  j  like  pillars 
of  mift  on  the  fettled  fea  :  it  glitters  to  the  fun, 
but  the  mariners  fear  a  ftorm. 

Raise  my  white  fails,  faid  Ma-ronnaft,  faiib 
them  to  the  winds  of  the  weft  j  let  us  rulli^  O 
Aldo,  through  the  foam  of  the  northern  wave. 

"•  This  was  at  Fingal's  return  from  his  wax  againft  Swarr.rt. 

.       We 


A       POEM.  i6i 

We  are  forgot  at  the  feaft :  but  our  arms  have 
been  red  in  blood.  Let  us  leave  the  hills  of  Fin- 
gal,  and  ferve  the  king  of  Sora,  His  coun- 
tenance is  fierce,  and  the  war  darkens  round  his 
fpcar.  Let  us  be  renowned,  O  Aldo,  in  the 
battles  of  echoing  Sora. 

They  took  their  fwords  and  fhields  of  thongS  j 
and  rulhed  to  Lumar's  founding  bay.  They 
came  to  Sora's  haughty  king,  the  chief  of 
bounding  fteedsi— - — Erragon  had  returned  from 
the  chace  :  his  fpear  was  red  in  blood.  He  bent 
his  dark  face  to  the  ground  :  and  whittled  as  he 

went. He  took  the  Grangers  to  his  feafts  i 

they  fought  and  conquered  in  his  wars. 

Aldo  returned  with  his  fame  towards  Sora's 
lofty  walls, — From  her  tower  looked  the  fpoufe 
of  Erragon,  the  humid,  rolling  eyes  of  Lorma. 
Her  dark-brown  hair  flies  on  the  wind  of 
ocean  :  her  white  breaft  heaves,  like  fnow  on  the 
heath  j  when  the  gentle  winds  arife,  and  flowly 
move  it  in  the  light*  She  faw  young  Aldo,  like 
the  beam  of  Sora's  fctting  fun.  Her  foft  heart 
fighed  :  tears  filled  her  eyes  j  and  her  white  arm 
fupported  her  head. 

Three  days  Ihc  fat  Within  the  hall,  and  co- 
vered grief  with  joy, — On  the  fourth  fhc  fled 
with  the  hero,  along  the  rolling  fca.— — They 

M  came 


iSl       The  BATf  L£  of  LORA: 

came  to  Cpaa's  mofly  towers,  to  Fingal  king  of 

Aldo  of  the  heart  of  pride!  fald  the  rifing 
king  of  Morven,  fhall  I  defend  thee  from  the 
wrath  of  Sora's  injured  king?  who  will  now 
receive  my  people  into  their  halls,  or  give  the 
feaft  of  ftrangers,  fmce  Aldo,  of  the  little  foul, 
has  carried  away  the  fair  of  Sora?  Go  to  thy 
hills,  thou  feeble  hand,  and  hide  thee  in  thy 
caves ;  mournful  is  the  battle,  we  muft  fight, 

with  Sora's  gloomy  king. Spirit  of  the  noble 

Trenmor !   when  will  Fingal  ceafe  to  fight  ?  I 
was  born  in  the  midft  of  battles  *,  and  my  fteps 
muft  move  in  blood  to  my  tomb.     But  my  hand 
did  not  injure  the  weak,  my  fteel  did  not  touch 
the  feeble  in  arms. — I  behold  tl>y  tempefts,  O. 
Morven,  which  will  overturn,  my  halls ;  whienv 
my  children  are  dead  in  battle,  and  nQneJce*- 
mains  to  dwell  in  Selma.     Then  will  the  feeble 
come,  but  they  will  not  k^iiow  my  tomb  :  my 
renown  is  in  the  fong  :  and  my  anions  fhall  be 
as  a  dream  to  future  times. 

.  His  people  gathered  around  Erragon,  as  the 
ftorms  round  the  ghoft  of  night  j  when  he  calls 

,*  Comha!  the  Father  of  Fingal  was  Ha'm  in  battle,  againft  the 
tribe  of  Morni,  the  very  day  that  Fingal  was  born;  fo  that  he 
may,  witft  propriety, 3)e  faid'to-liave'.b^en  hm  in  the  midfi  of 
hqftks. 

I 

0  them 


A      t*    O    E    M.  163 

tliem  from  the  top  of  Morveti^  and  prepares  to 

pour  them  on  the  land  of  the  ftranger. He 

came  to  the  fhore  of  Cona,  and  fent  his  bard  to 
the  king;  to  demand  the  combat  of  thoufands; 
or  the  land  of  many  hills. 

FiNGAL  fat  in  his  hall  with  the  companions 
of  his  youth  around  him.  The  young  heroes 
were  at  the  chace,  and  far  diftant  in  the  defart. 
The  gray-haired  chiefs  talked  of  other  times, 
and  of  the  ai^ions  of  their  youth  j  when  the 
aged  Narthmor  *  came,  the  king  of  ftreamy 
Lora. 

Th  IS  is  no  time,  begun  the  chief,  to  hear  the 
fongs  of  other  years :  Erragon  frowns  on  the 
coaft,  and  lifts  ten  thoufand  fwords.  Gloomy  is 
the  king  among  his  chiefs !  he  is  like  the  dark* 
ened  moon,  amidft  the  meteors  of  night. 

Come,  faid  FIngal,  from  thy  hall,  thou 
daughter  of  my  love  j  come  from  thy  hall,  Bof- 
mlnaf,  maid  of  ftreamy  Morven!  Narthmor, 
take  the  fteeds  ^  of  the  ftrangers,  and  attend  the 
daughter  of  Fingal :  let  her  bid  the  king  of  Sora 

•  Neart-mor,  great  Jlrength.     Lora,  noify. 

t  Bof-mhina,  fcft  and  tender  hand.  She  was  the  youngeft  of 
Fingal's  children. 

X  Thefe  were  probably  horfes  taken  in  the  Incurfions  of  the 
Caledonians  into  the  Roman  province,  which  I'ecois  to  be  inii* 
mated  in  the  phrafe  of  ^tjleedi  of  Jirangtr$, 

Ma  V) 


i64    The  Battle  of  lorA; 

to  our  feaft,  to  Selma's  ihaded  wall. OfCeilf 

him,  O  Bofmlna,  the  peace  of  heroes,  and 
the  wealth  of  generous  Aldo :  our  youths  are 
far  diftant,  and  age  is  on  our  trembling  hands; 

She  came  to  the  hoft  of  Erragon,  like  abeam 

of  light  to  a  cloud. In  her  right  hand  fhone 

in  arrow  of  gold ;  and  in  her  left  a  fparkling 

flielt,  the  fign  of  Morven's  peace. Erragon 

brightened  In  her  prefehce  as  a  rock,  before  the 
fudden  beams  of  the  fun  ;  when  they  iffue  from 
a  broken  cloud,  divided  by  the  roaring  wind. 

Son  of  the  diftant  Sora,  begun  the  mildly 
blufhing  maid,  come  to  the  feaft  of  Morven's 
kihg,  to  Selma's  iTiaded  walls.  Take  the  peace 
df  heiroes,  0  warrior,  and  let  the  dark  fword 
feft  by  thy  fide.— And  if  thou  chufeft  the  wealth 
of  kings,  hear  the  words  of  the  generous  Aldo. 

He  gives  to  Erragon  an  hundred  fteeds,  the 

children  of  the  rein;  an  hundred  maids  from 
diftant  lands ;  an  hundred  hawks  with  fluttering 
wing,  tliat  fly  acrofs  the  iky.  An  hundred 
girdles  *  fliall  alfo  be  thine,  to  bind  Kigh-bo- 

•  Sandified  girdles,  till  very  lately,  were  kept  in  many  fa- 
milies in  the  north  of  Scotland  ;  they  were  bourid  about  womert. 
iu  labour,  and  were  fuppofed  to  alleviate  their  pains,  and  to  ac- 
celerate the  birth.  I'hcy  were  imprcfTed  with  feveral  myftical 
figures,  and  the  ceremony  of  binding  them  about  the  woman's 
w\pii^  was  accompanied  with  words  and  geftures  which  fhewed 
the  cutlom  to  liavc  come  originally  from  the  druids. 

■^'^  fomed 


A       P    O    E  'W  x6^ 

ibmed  women  j  the  friends  of  the  births  of  he- 
roes, and  the  cure  of  the  fons  of  toil. — Ten 
fhells  iludded  with  gems  fliall  fhine  in  Sora's 
towers :  the  blue  water  trembles  on  their  ftars, 
and  feems  to  be  fparkling  wine. Th<^y  glad- 
dened once  the  kings  of  the  world  *,  in  the 
midft  of  their  echoing  halls.  Thefe,  O  hero, 
Ihall  be  thine ;  or  thy  white-bofomed  fpoufe. 

Lorma  Ihall  roll  her  bright  eyes  in  thy 

halls  i  though  Fingal  loves  the  generous  Aldo  : 
— Fingal !— who  never  injured  a  hero,  though 
his  arm  is  ftrong. 

Soft  voice  of  Cona!  replied  the  king,  tell 

him,  that  he  fpreads  his  feaft  in  vain. Let 

Fingal  pour  his  fpolls  aroupd  me;  and  bend  be- 
neath my  power.  Let  him  give  me  the  fwords 
of  his  fathers,  and  the  lliields  of  other  times ; 
that  my  children  may  behold  them  in  my  halls, 
and  fay,  "  Thefe  are  the  arms  of  Fingal." 

Never  fliall  they  behold  them  in  thy  halls, 
faid  the  rifing  pride  of  the  maid  5  they  are  in 
the  mighty  hands  of  heroes  who  never  yielded  in 
war. — King  of  the  echoing  Sora  !  the  ftorm  is 
gathering  on  our  hills.  Doft  thou  not  forfce 
;he  fall  of  thy  people,  fon  of  the  diftant  land  ? 

•  The  Roman  emperors,  Thefe  fhells  were  foave  of  the  fpoils 
pf  the  province. 

M  3  Shz 


i6&      The   BATTLE   of  LORA? 

She  came  to  Selma's  lilent  halls  j  the  kingbe-e 
held  her  down-caft  eyes.  He  rofe  from  his 
place,  in  his  ftrength,  and  iTiook  his  aged  locks, 

He  took  the  founding  mail  of  Trenmor, 

and  the  dark-brown  Ihield  of  his  fathers.  Dark- 
jiefs  filled  Selma's  hall,  when  he  ftretched  his 
hand  to  his  fpear  : — the  ghofts  of  thoufands 
were  near,  and  forefaw  the  death  of  the  people. 
Terrible  joy  rofe  in  the  face  of  the  aged  heroes  : 
they  rallied  to  meet  the  foe;  their  thoughts  are 
on  the  a6lions  of  other  years ;  and  on  the  fame 
of  the  tomb. 

Now  the  dogs  of  the  chace  appeared  at  Trar 
thal's  tomb :  Flngal  knew  that  his  young  he-: 
roes  followed  them,  and  he  ftapt  in  the  midft  of 

his  courfe.- Ofcar  appeared  the  firft; — thei^ 

Morqi's  fon,  and  Nemi's  race  :  —  Fercuth  * 
ihewed  his  gloomy  form  :  Dermid  fpread  his 
dark  hair  on  the  wind.  Offian  came  the  laft. 
O  fon  of  the  rpckf,  I  hummed  the  fong  of 
other  times :  my  fpear  fupported  my  fteps  over 
the  little  ftjeams,  and  my  thoughts  were  of 
mighty  men.  Fingal  ftruck  his  boffy  fhield  5 
and  gave  the  difmal  fign  of  war ;  a  thpufand 

•  Fear-cuth,  the  fame  with  Fergus,  the  man  of  the  luordy  or 
a  commander  of  an  army. 
f  The  poet  addreffes  himfelf  to  the  Cildee. 

fwords 


^■■Qi'     P    O    EM.        '       167 

fiords*,  at  once  unfheathed,  gleam,  on  the: 
waving  heath.     Three  gray-haired  fons  of  fong 

raife  the  tuneful,  mournful  A''oice. Deep  and 

dark  with  founding  fteps,  we  rulh,  a  gloomy 
ridge,  along  :  like  the  fhower  of  a  ftorm  when 
it  pours  on  the  narrow  vale,         1 

The  king  of  Morven  fat  on  his  hill :  the  fun- 
beam  -f  of  battle  flew  on  the  wind  :  the  compa- 
nions of  his  youth  are  near,  with  all  their  waving- 

locks  of  age. Joy  rofe  in  the  heroes  eyes 

when  he  beheld  his  fons  in  war ;  when  he  faw 
tliem  amidft  the  lightning  of  fwords,  and  mind- 
ful of  tht  deeds  of  their  fathers. Erragon 

came  on,  in  his  flrength,  like  the  roar  of  a  win- 
ter ftream  :  the  battle  falls  in  his  courfe,  and 
death  is  at  his  flde. 

Who  comes,  faid  Fingal,  like  the  bounding 
roe,  like  the  hart  of  echoing  Cona  ?  His  fhield 
glitters  on  his  fide ;  and  the  clang  of  his  armour 

is  mournful.- He  meets  with  Erragon  in  the 

ftrife! — Behold  the  battle  of  the  chiefs !— it  is 
like  the  contending  of  ghoils  in  a  gloomy  ftorm, 

•  He  fp^e ;  and  to  confirm  his  words  out-flew. 
Millions  of  flaming  fwords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  Cherubim;  the  fudden  blaze 
Far  round  illumin'd  hell.  Milton, 

f  I  have  obferved  in  a  former  note,  that  the  ftandard  of  Fin- 
gal  was  called  the  fun-beam  from  its  being  ftuddcd  with  ftones 
9nd  gold. 

M  4  — —But 


i68        The  BATTLE  of   LORA: 

*-r-T— But  fallefi  thou,  fon  of  the  hill,  and  Is  thy 
white  bofom  ftained  with  bipod?  Weep,  \i^i 
happy  Lorma,  Aldo  Is  no  niore. 

,The  king  took  the  fpear  of  his  ftrength  ;  for 
he  was  fad  for  the  fall  of  Aldo  :  he  bent  his; 
deathful  eyes  on  the  foej  but  Gaul  met  the  king 

of  Sara. ^Who  can  relate  the   fight  of  the 

phiefs  ?— rThe  n^ighty  flranger  fell. 

Sons  of  Cona!  FingaJ  cried  aloud,  flop  the 
hand  of  death. — Mighty  was  he  that  is  now  fo 
low !  and  much  is  he  mourned  in  Soral  The 
flranger  will  come  towards  his  hall,  and  wonder 
why  it  is  filent.  The  king  Is  fallen,  O  flranger, 
and  the  joy  of  his  houfe  is  ceafed.— — Liflen  to 
the  found  of  his  woods:  perhaps  his  ghoft  is 
there ;  but  he  is  far  diftant,  on  Morvejfi,  be-* 
neath  the  fword  of  a  foreign  foe. 

Such  were  the  words  of  Fingal,  when  th^ 
bard  raifed  the  fong  of  peace  ;  we  flopped  our 
uplifted  fwords,  and  fpared  the  feeble  foe.  We 
laid  Erragon  in  that  tombj  ai^d  I  ralfcd  the 
voice  of  grief :  the  clouds  of  night  came  rolling 
down,  and  the  ghoft  of  Erragon  appeared  tp 
fome.— -His  face  was  cloudy  and  dark  j  and  an 
half- formed  figh  is  in  his  breafl. — — Blefl  be  thy 
foul,  O  king  of  Sora !  thine  ari^  was  terrible  h^ 
war  ! 


A      POEM.  J69 

LoRMA  fat,  in  Aldo's  hall,  at  the  light  of  a 
fiaming  oak  :  the  night  cajne,  but  he  did  not 
return  ;  and  the  foul  of  Lornia  is  fad, — What 
detains  thee,  hunter  of  Cona  ?  for  thou  didft 

promife  to  return. Has  the  deer  been  diftant 

fer ;  and  do  the  dark  winds  figh,  round  thee, 
on  the  heath?  I  am  in  the  land  of  Grangers, 
where  is  my  friend,  but  Aldo  ?  Come  ft-dm  thy 
echoing  hills,  O  my  beft  beloved ! 

Her  eyes  are  turned  toward  the  gate,  and  fhe 
Uftens  to  the  ruftling  blaft.  She  thinks  it  is 
Aldo's  tread,  and  joy  rifes  in  her  face  ;^— but 
fbrrow  returns  again,  like  a  thin  cloud  on  the 

moon. And  thou  wilt  not  return,  my  love  ? 

Let  me  behold  the  face  of  the  hill.  The  moon 
is  in  the  eaft.  Calni  and  bright  is  the  breaft  of 
t)ie  lake !  When  fhall  I  behold  his  dogs  returning 
from  the  chace  ?  When  fliall  I  hear  his  voice, 
|oud  and  diftant  on  the  wind  ?  Come  from  thy 
echoing  hills,  hunter  of  woody  Cona  ! 

His  thin  ghoft  appeared,  on  a  rock,  like  the 
watry  beam  of  the  moon,  when  it  rulhes  from 
fcctyveer)  two  clouds,  and  the  midnight  fhower  \s 

on  the  field. She  followed  the  empty  form 

over  the  heath,  for  fhe  knew  that  her  hero  fell, 
^— I  heard  her  approaching  cries  on  the  wind, 
like  the  mournful  voice  of  the  brce?e,  when  it 
pghs  on  the  grafs  of  the  cave. 

Sh£ 


rj^      The  BATTLE  of  LORA. 

'  $H  E  came,  fhe  found  her  hef o  :  her  voice 
was  heard  no  more  :  lilent  Ihe  rolled  her  fad 
eyes ;  ihe  was  pale  as  a  watry  cloud,  that  rifes 
from  the  lake,  to  the  beam  of  the  moon. 

Few  were  her  days  on  Cona:  Ihe  funk  Into 
th6  tomb  :  Fingal  commanded  his  bards  j  and 
they  fung  over  the  death  of  Lorma.  The 
daughters  *  of  Morven  mourned  her  for  brie  day 
in  the  year,  when  the  dark  winds  of  autumn  re- 
turned. 

Son  of  the  diftant  land  "f ,  thou  dwelleft  in  the 
£eld  of  fame :  O  let  thy  fong  rife,  at  times,  in: 
the  praife  of  thofe  that  fell  :  that  their  thin 
ghofts  may  rejoice  around  thee  ;  and  the  foul  of 
Lorma  come  on  a  moon-beam  j,  when  thou 
lieft  down  to  reft,  and  the  moon  looks  into  thy 
dave.  Then  fhalt  thou  fee  her  lovely  ;  but  the 
tear  is  ftill  on  her  cheek. 

•  The  daughters  of  Ifrael  went  yearly  to  lament  the  daughter 
(>f  Jephthah  the  Gileadite  foiK  days  in  a  year. 

Judges  xl.  40. 

t  The  poet  addrefles  himfelf  to  the  Culdee; 

I  Be  thou  on.  a  moon-beam,  O  Moma,  near  the  window  of^ 
my  reft ;  when  my  thoughts  are  of  peace ;  and  the  din  of  arms 
^s  pver,  *  FiNGAL,  B.  1. 


CONLATH 


:-\il 


CONLATH  and  CUTHONA: 

A      P     O     E     M*. 

DI D  not  Qflian  hear  a  voice  ?  or  is  it  the 
found  of  days  that  are  no  more  ?  Often 
does  the  memory  of  former  times  come,  like 
tjie  evening  fun,  on  my  foul,     The  noife  of  the 

•  Conlath  was  the  youngeft  of  Morni's  fons,  and  brother  ta 
the  celebrated  Gaul,  who  is  fo  often  mentioned   in  Oillan^s 
poems.     He  was  in  love  with  Cuthona  the  daughter  of  Rpmar, 
when  Tofcar  the  fon  of  Kinfena,  accompanied  by  Fercuth  his 
friend,  arrived,  from  Ireland,  at  Mora  where  Conlath  dwelt. 
He  was  hofpitahly  received,  and  according  to  the  cuftom  of  the 
times,  feafted,  three  days,  with  Conlath.     On  the  fourth  he  fet 
fail,  and  coafting  the  ijlfind  of'wa'ves,  probably,  one  of  the  He- 
brides, he  faw  Cuthona  hunting,  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  car- 
ried her  away,  by  force,  in  his  (hip.     He  was  forced,  by  ftrefs 
of  weather,  into  I-thona  a  defart  ifle.     In  the  mean  time  Conlath, 
hearing  of  the  rape,  failed  after  him,  and  found  him  on  the 
point  of  failing  for  the  coalt  of  Ireland.     They  fought ;  and^ 
they,  and  their  followers  fell  by  mutual  wounds.     Cuthona  did 
not  long  furvive  :  for  Ihe  died  of  grief  the  third  day  after.    Fin- 
gal,  hearing  of  their  unfortunate  death,  fent  Siormal  the  fon  of 
Moran  to  bury  them,  but  forgot  to  fend  a  bard  to  fmg  the  fu- 
neral fqng  over  their  tombs.    The  ghoft  of  Conlath  came,  long 
after,  to  Oflian,  to  intreat  him  to  tranfmit,  to  pofterity,  his  and 
puthdna's  fame.     For  it  was  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the 
fouls  of  the  deceafed  were  not  happy,  till  their  elegies  were  com- 

pofed  by  a  bard, Thus  is  the  ftory  pf  the  po(Jm  handed  down 

by  tradition. 

chacc 


1^2     CONLATH  and  CUTHONA  : 
chace  is  renewed;  and,  in  thought,  I  lift  the 

fpear. ^But  Offian  did  hear  a  voice ;  Who  art 

thou,  fon  of  the  night  ?  The  fons  of  littU:  men 
are  alleep,  and  the  midnight  wind  is  in  my  hall. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  Ihield  of  Fingal  that  echoes  to 
the  blaft,  it  hangs  in  Oflian's  hall,  and  he  feels 

it  fometimes  with  his  hands. ^Yes! — I  hear 

thee,  my  friend  :  long  has  thy  voice  been  abfent 
from  mine  ear !  What  brings  thee,  on  thy 
cloud,  to  Offian,  fon  of  the  generous  Morni  ? 
Are  the  friends  of  the  aged  near  thee  ?  Where  is 
Ofcar,  fon  of  fame  ? — He  was  often  ne^r  thee, 
d  Conlath,  when  the  din  of  battle  rofe. 

Ghost  of  Conlath. 

Sleeps  the  fweet  voice  of  Cona,  in  the  midft 
of  his  ruftling  hall  ?  Sleeps  Offian  in  his  hall,  and 
his  friends  without  their  fame?  The  fea  rolls 
round  the  dark  I-thona  *,  and  our  tombs  are 
not  feen  by  the  ftrapger.  How  long  Ihall  our 
fame  be  unheard,  fon  of  the  echoing  Morven  ? 

OssiAN, 

O  THAT  mine  eyes  could  behold  thee,  as  thou 
fitteft,  dim,  on  thy  cloud!  Art  thou  like  the 
mifl  of  Lano  j  or  an  half-extinguifhed  pieteor  ? 

•  I-thoan,  ijland  of  ixaveh  one  of  the  uninhabited  weftern 
ifles. 

Of 


A      P    O    E    M.  173 

Of  what  are  the  fkirts  of  thy  robe  ?  Of  what  is 

thine  airy  bow  ? But  he  is  gone  on  his  blail 

like  the  Ihadow  of  mift. — Come  from  thy  wall, 
my  harp,  and  let  me  hear  thy  found.  Let  the 
light  of  memory  rife  on  I-thona ;  that  I  may 
behold  my  friends.  And  Offian  does  behold  his 
friends,  on  the  dark-blue  iflc. — The  cave  of 
Thona  appears,  with  its  moffy  rocks  and  bend- 
ing trees.  A  ftream  roars  at  its  mouth,  and 
Tofcar  bends  over  its  courfe.  Fercuth  is  fad  by 
his  fide :  and  the  maid  *  of  his  love  fits  at  a  dif- 
tancc,  and  weeps.  Does  the  wind  of  the  waves 
deceive  me  ?  Or  do  I  hear  them  fpeak  ? 

TOSCAR. 

The  night  was  ftormy.  From  their  hills  the 
groaning  oaks  came  down.  The  fea  darkly- 
tumbled  beneath  the  blaft,  and  the  roaring 
waves  were  climbing  againft  our  rocks. — The 
lightning  came  often  and  Ihewed  the  blafted 
fern. — Fercuth !  I  faw  the  ghoft  of  night  f. 
Silent  he  flood,  on  that  bank ;  his  robe  of  mift 

•  Cutlidna  the  daughter  of  Rumar,  whom  Tofcar  had  carried 
away  by  force, 

f  It  was  long  thought,  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  that  ftohns 
were  raifed  by  the  ghofts  of  the  deceafed.  This  notion  is  ftill  en- 
tertaioed  hy  the  vulgar;  for  they  think  that  whirlwinds,  and 
Aiduen  fqualls  of  wind  are  occafioned  by  fpirits,  who  traniport 
thcnirelves,  in  that  manner,  from  one,  place  to  another. 

flew 


174      CONLATH  and  CUTHONAi 

flew  on  the  wind.— I  could  behold  his  tears :  all 
aged  man  he  feemed,  and  full  of  thought. 

FercIjth. 

It  was  thy  father,  O  Tofcaf ;  and  he  forefees 
fame  death  among  his  race.  •  Such  was  his  ap- 
pearance on  Cromla,  before  the  great  Ma-ron- 

nan  *  fell. ^UUin  !  f  with  thy  hills  of  grafs^, 

how  pleafant  are  thy  vales !  Silence  is  near  thy 
blue  ftreams,  and  the  fun  is  on  thy  fields.  Soft 
is  the  found  of  the  harp  in  Selama  i,  and  plea- 
fant the  cry  of  the  hunter  on  Cromla.  But  we 
are  in  the  dark  I-thona,  furrounded  by  the 
ftorm.  The  billows  lift  their  white  heads  above 
our  rocks :  and  we  tremble  amidft  the  night. 

TOSCAR. 

Whither  is  the  foul  of  battle  fled,  Fercuth 
with  the  locks  of  age?  I  have  feen  thee  un- 
daunted in  danger,  and  thine  eyes  burning  with 
joy  in  the  fight.  Whither  is  the  foul  of  battle 
fled  ?  Our  fathers  never  feared. — Go  :  view  the 

•  Ma-ronnan  was  the  brothcF  of  Tofcarr  the  tranflator  has  a 
poem  in  his  pofleffion  Goncerning  the  extraordinary  death  of  that 
hero. 

f  UHler  in  Ireland. 

:J;  Sclamath-— ^^^«.';yi/ /o  heboid,  the  name  of  Tofcar's  palace, 
on  the  coaft  of  Ulfter,  near  the  mountain  Cromla  the  fcene  of  the 
epic  poem. 

fettiing 


A      POEM.  ii75 

fettling  fea  :  the  ftormy  wind  is  laid.  The  bil- 
lows Hill  tremble  *  on  the  deep,  and  feem  to  fear 
the  blaft.  But  view  the  fettling  fea :  morning  is 
gray  on  our  rocks.  The  fun  will  look  foon 
from  his  eaft ;  in  all  his  pride  of  light. 

I  LIFTED  up  my  fails,  with  joy,  before  the 
halls  of  generous  Conlath.  My  courfe  was  by 
the  ifle  of  waves,  where  his  love  purfued  the 
deer.  I  faw  her,  like  that  beam  of  the  fun  that 
iflues  from  the  cloud.  Her  hair  was  on  her 
heaving  breaft ;  Ihe,  bending  forward,  drew  the 
bow  :  her  white  arm  feemed,  behind  her,  'like 

the  fnow  of  Cromla  : Come  to  my  foul,  I 

faid,  thou  huntrefs  of  the  ifle  of  waves !  But  Ihe 
fpends  her  time  in  tears,  and  thinks  of  the  ge- 
nerous Conlath.  Where  can  I  find  thy  peace, 
Cuthona,  lovely  maid! 

Cu-THONA-f. 

A  DISTANT  fteep  bends  over  the  fea,  with 
aged  trees  and  mofly  rocks :  the  billows  roll  at 
its  feet :  on  its  fide  is  the  dwelling  of  roes.    The 

* the  face  of  ocean  fleeps, 


And  a  (lill  horror  faddens  all  the  deeps. 

Pope's  Homer. 

I  Cu-thona,  the  mournful  found  of  the  ivavej ;  a  poetical  name 
jTiveii  her  by  Oflian,  on  account  of  her  mourning  to  the  found  of 
the  waves ;  licr  name  in  tradition  is  Gorm-huil,  tl-e  hiue-ejed 
moid. 

people 


176  CONLATH  and  CUTHOi^A: 
people  call  it  Ardven.  There  the  towers  of 
Mora  rife.  There  Conlath  looks  over  the  fca 
for  his  only  love.  The  daughters  of  the  chace 
returned,  and  he  beheld  their  downcaft  eyes* 
Where  is  the  daughter  of  Rumar  ?  But  they  an- 
fwered  not. — My  peace  dwells  on  Ardven,  fon 
of  the  diftant  land  I 

ToscaA. 

And  Cuthona  ihall  return  to  her  peace;  to 
the  halls  of  generous  Conlath.  He  is  the  friend 
of  Tofcar  :  I  have  feafted  in  his  halls. — Rife,  ye' 
gentle  breezes  of  Ullin,  and  f^retch  my  fails  to- 
wards Ardven's  fhores.  Cuthona  Ihall  reft  on 
Ardven  :  but  the  days  of  Tofcar  will  be  fad. — 
I  Ihall  fit  in  my  cave  in  the  field  of  the  fun.  The 
blaft  will  ruftle  in  my  trees,  and  I  ihall  think  it 
is  Cuthona's  voice.  But  Ihe  is  diftant  far,  in  the 
halls  of  the  mighty  Conlath. 

Cuthona. 

Oh  !  what  cloud  is  that?  It  carries  the  ghofts 
of  my  fathers.  I  fee  the  fkirts  of  their  robes, 
like  gray  and  watry  mift.  When  fliall  I  fall,  O 
Rumar  ?— Sad  Cuthona  fees  her  death.  Will 
not  Conlath  behold  me,  before  I  enter  the  nar- 
row houfe  r  * 


•  Th«  gt-ave.  , 

OSSIAIT. 


A       POEM*  'J77 

OSSIAN* 

I 

And  he  will  behold  thee,  O  maid  :  he  comes 
along  the  rolling  fea.  The  death  of  Tofcar  is 
dark  on  his  fpear ;  and  a  wound  is  in  his  fide. 
He  is  pale  at  the  cave  of  Thona,  and  ihews  his 
ghaftly  wound*.  Where  art  thou  with  thy 
tears,  Cuthona  ?  the  chief  of  Mora  dies.— — 
The  vifion  grows  dim  on  my  mind  : — I  behold 
the  chiefs  no  more.  But,  O  ye  bards  of  future 
times,  remember  the  fall  of  Conlath  with  tears  : 
he  fell  before  his  day  •f' ;  and  fadnefs  darkened 
in  his  hall.  His  mother  looked  to  his  lliield  on 
the  wall,  and  it  was  bloody  i-  She  knew  that 
her  hero  died,  and  her  forrow  was  heard  on 
Mora. 

Art  thOu  pale  on  thy  rock,  Guthona,  befide 
the  fallen  chiefs  ?   The  night  comes,   and  the 

•  — — — inbumati  'vetiii  imago 


Conjugisy  or  a  modis  adtollens  pallida  miris  : 

Crudilis  aras,  trajeilaque  feSlorafcrro 

hiudavit.'   ••    •  Virg. 

the  glioft  appears 
Of  h6r  unhappy  Lord  :  the  fpedlre  ftares, 
And  with  erefled  eyes  his  bloody  bofom  bares. 

Dr  YDEN. 

•f-  Nam  quia  nee  fato^  merit  a  nee  morte  perihdty 
Sid trt'/era anle  diem,  i^e.  -  Virg. 

X  It  was  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  the  arms  left  by  the 
heroes  at  home,  became  bloody  the  very  inftant  their  owners 
were  killed,  though  at  cvtr  fo  great  a  diftance. 

N  day 


176      CONLATH  and  CUTHONA. 

day  returns,  but  none  appears  to  raife  their 
tomb.  Thou  frightneft  the  fcreaming  fowls* 
away,  and  thy  tears  for  ever  flow.  Thou  art 
pale  as  a  watry  cloud,  that  rifes  from  a  lake. 

The  fons  of  thedefart  came,  and  they  found 
her  dead.  They  raife  a  tomb  over  the  heroes ; 
and  fhe  refts  at  the  fide  of  Conlath.-— Come  not 
to  my  dreams,  O  Conlath ;  for  thou  haft  re- 
ceived thy  fame.  Be  thy  voice  far  diftant  from 
my  hall ;  that  fleep  may  defcend  at  night.  O 
that  I  could  forget  my  friends  :  till  my  footftcps 
ccafc  to  be  feen  !  till  I  come  among  them  with 
joy  !  and  lay  my  aged  limbs  in  the  narrov^ 
houfe  1 

*  The  fituatlon  of  Cuthona  is  like  that  of  Rizpah,  Saul'*' 
mifirefs,  who  fat  by  her  fons  after  they  had  been  hanged  by  th« 
Gibeonites. 

And  Rizpah,  the  daughter  of  Aiah,  took  fackcloth,  ancJ 
fpread  it  for  her  upon  the  rock,  from  the  beginning  of  the  harveft 
until  water  dropped  on  them  out  of  heaven,  and  fufFered  neither 
the  birds  of  the  air  to  rell  on  thera  by  day,  nor  the  bealls  of  prey 
by  Dight.  2  Sam.  xxi,  icx 


C  A  R  T  H  O  N ; 


C  A   R   T   H    O    N*: 
A     POEM. 


A  TALE  of  the  times  of  old!  The  deeds 
of  days  of  other  years !— The  murmur 
of  thy  ftreams,  O  Lora,  brrhgs  back  the  me- 
mory _of  the  paft.     The  found  of  thy  woods, 

Garmallar, 

•  This  poem  is  conipleat,  and  tlie  fubjeft  of  it,  as  of  moft  of 
OfGan's  compofitions,  tragical.  In  the  time  of  Comhal  the  fon 
bf  Trathal,  and  father  of  the  celebrated  Fingal,  Clefsammor  the 
fon  of  Thaddu  and  brother  of  Morna,  Fingal's  mother,  was 
driven  by  a  ftorm  into  the  river  Clyde,  on  the  banks  of  which 
flood  Balclutha,  a  town  belonging  to  the  Britons  between  the 
Walls.  He  was  hofpitably  received  by  Reuthdmir,  the  principal 
man  in  the  place,  who  gave  hita  Moina  his  only  daughter  ia 
marriage.  Reuda,  the  fon  of  Cormo,  a  Briton  who  was  in  love 
with  Moina,  camcs  to  Reuthamlr's  houfe,  and  behaved" haugh- 
tily towards  Clefsamnior.  A  quarrel  infued,  in  which  Reuda 
was  kiiled ;  the  Britons,  wliO  attended  him  prefTeJ  fo  hard  on 
Clefsammcr,  that  he  was  obliged  to  throw  himfelf  into  the 
ClydC)  and  fwim  to  his  fliip.  He  hoifled  fail,  and  the  wind  be- 
ing favourable,  bore  him  out  to  fca.  He  often  endeavoured  to 
return,  and  carry  off  his  beloved  iVloina  by  night ;  but  the  wind 
continuing  contrary,  he  was  forced  to  defift. 

Moina,  who  had  been  left  with  child  by  her  hufliand,  brought 

forth  a  fon,  and  died  foon  after. Reuthamir  named  the  child 

Carthon,  /.  f.  the  ?nurmur  of  luavesy  from  the  llorm  which  car- 

N  z  ried 


i8o  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

Garmallax,  is  lovely  in  mine  ear.  Doft  thou 
not  behold,  Malvina,  a  rock  with  its  head  of 
heath  ?  Three  aged  firs  bend  from  its  face ; 
green  is  the  narrow  plain  at  its  feet ;  there  the 
flower  of  the  mountain  grows,  and  Ihakes  its 
white'  head  in  the  breeze.  The  thiftle  is  there 
alone,  and  Iheds  its  aged  beard.  Two  ftones, 
half  funk  in  the  ground,  Ihiew  their  heads  of 
.  mofs.  The  deer  of  the  mountain  avoids  the 
place,  for  he  beholds  the  gray  ghoft  that  guards 
it  *  :  for  the  mighty  lie,  O  Malvina,  in  the  nar- 
row plain  of  the  rock.  A  tale  of  the  times  of 
old !  the  deeds  of  days  of  other  years ! 

jicd  off  Clersammor  his  father,  who  was  fuppofed  to  have  been 
call  away.  When'  Carthon  was  three  years  old,  Comhal  the  fa- 
ther of  Fingal,  in  one  of  his  expeditions  againft  the  Britons,  took 
and  burnt  Balclutha.  Reuthamir  was  killed  in  the  attack  :  and 
Carthon  was  carried  fafe  away  by  his  nurfe,  who  fled  farther  into 
the  country  of  the  Britons.  Carthon,  coming  to  man's  eftal'e 
was  refolved  to  revenge  the  fall  of  Balclutha  on  Comhal's  pofte- 
rity.  He  fet  fail,  from  the  Clyde,  and,  falling  on  the  coaft  of 
Morven,  defeated  two  of  Fingal's  heroes,  who  came  to  oppoie 
his  progrefs.  He  was,  at  laft,  unwittingly  killed  by  his  father 
Clefsammor,  in  a  fingle  combat.  This  ftory  is  the  foundation 
of  the  prefent  poem,  which  opens  on  the  night  preceding  the 
death  of  Carthon,  fo  that  what  paffed  before  is  introduced  by 
way  of  epifode.  The  poem  is  addrdTed  to  Malvina  the  daughter 
of  Tofcar. 

*  It  w  as  the  opinion  of  the  times,  that  deer  faw  the  ghofts  of 
the  dead.  To  this  day,  when  beads  fuddenly  ftart  without  any 
apparent  caufe,  the  vulgar  think  that  they  fee  the  fpirits  of  the 
deceafcd. 

Who 


A       P    O    E    M.  i8i 

Who  comes  from  the  land  of  ftrangers,  with 
his  thoufands  around  him  ?  the  fun-beam  pours 
its  bright  llream  before  him  ;  and  his  hair  meets 
the  wind  of  his  hills.  His  face  is  fettled  from 
war.  He  is  calm  as  the  evening  beam  that 
looks,  from  the  cloud  of  the  weft,  on  Cona's 
iilent  vale.  Who  is  it  but  Comhal's  fon  *,  the 
king  of  mighty  deeds !  He  beholds  his  hills  with 

joy,  and  bids   a    thoufand  voices  rife. Ye 

have  fled  over  your  fields,  ye  fons  of  the  diftant 
land  !  The  king  of  the  world  fits  in  his  hall,  and 
hears  of  his  people's  flight.  He  lifts  his  red  eye 
of  pride,  and  takes  his  father's  fword.  Ye  have 
fled  over  your  fields,  fons  of  the  diftant  land  ! 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  bards,  when  they 
came  to  Selma's  halls.— -A  thoufand  lights  "f 
from  the  flrangcr's  land  rofe,  in  the  midft  of  the 
people.  The  fcaft  is  fpread  around ;  and  the 
night  pafied  away  in  joy.— Where  is  the  noble 
Clefsammor  X  faid  the  fair-haired  Fingal  ?  Where 
is  the  companion  of  my  father,  in  the  days  of 
my  joy  ?  Sullen  and  dark  he  pafies  his  days  in 

*  Fingal  returns  here,  from  an  expedition  againfl  the  Romans, 
which  was  celebrated  by  OIGan  in  a  particular  poem  which  is  in 
the  tranflator's  poiTcfiion. 

f  Probably  wax-lights ;  which  are  often  mentioned  as  carried, 
among  other  booty,  from  the  Roman  province. 

X  Clcflumh-mor,  jnight^  detth. 

N  3  the 


i82  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

the  vale  of  echoing  I.ora:  but,  behold,  he 
comes  from  the  hill,  like  a  fteed  *  in  his  ftrength, 
who  finds  his  companions  in  the  breeze ;  and 

tolTes  his  bright  mane  in  the  wind.^ ^Bleft  be 

the  foul  of  Clcfsammpr,  why  fo  long  from 
Selma?  '"'^;^  ^^  ' 

Returns  the  chief,  faid  Clefsammot,  irf  the 
midft  of  his  fame  ?  Such  was  the  renown  of 
Comhal  in  the  battles  of  his  youth.  Often  did 
we  pafs  oyer  Carun  to  the  land  of  the  Grangers  : 

*  Haft  thou  given  the  horfe  ftrength  ?  Haft  thou  clothed  his' 
neck  with  thunder  i  }ic  paweth  in  the  valley,  and  rejoiceth  in 
}iis  ftrength.  Job. 

Aitr/Aov  a7ro^'j)-,|aj,  &C.  HoM.  II.  6. 

The  wanton  courfer  thus  with  reins  unbound. 
Breaks  from  his  ftall,  and  beats  the  trembling  ground ; 
pis  head,  now  freed,  he  tofles  to  the  Ikies; 
Jtiis  mane  diftievel'd  o'er  his  ftioulders  flies  j 
He  fnufts  the  females  in  thedtftant  plairj, 
And  fprings,  exulting.  Poee, 

^alis  ubi ahruptis  fugit  pr^/epia  v'lnclis 

*Iar.dem  liber  equus,  campoque  potitus  aperto, 

r—Ille  in  pajfus  armentaqtie  '.er.dit  cqiiarum  : 

arreBifqve  fremit  cei'vlcihus  alte 

LuxurianSf  luduntque  lubte  per  colla,  per  armos. 

ViRG. 

Freed  from  his  keepers,  thus  with  broken  reins. 
The  wanton  courfer  prances  o'er  the  plains : 
Or  in  the  pride  of  youth  o'erleaps  the  mounds. 
And  fnuffs  the  females  in  forbidden  grounds. 

• O'er  his  ihoulders  flows  his  waving  mane : 

fie  neighs,  he  fnorts,  he  bears  his  head  on  high. 

Pryden. 

our 


A   ^   P    O    E    M.  1S3 

our  fwords  returned,  not  nnftained  with  blood : 
nor  did  the  kings  of  the  world  rejoice. ^Why- 
do  I  remember  the  battles  of  my  youth  ?  My 
hair  is  mixed  with  gray.  My  hand  forgets  to 
bend  the  bow  :  and  I  lift  a  lighter  fpear,  O 
that  my  joy  would  return,  as  when  I  firft  beheld 
the  maidi  the  white  bofomed  daughter  of  ftran- 
gers,  Moina  *  with  the  dark-blue  eyes  I 

Tell,  faid  tlie  mighty  Fingal,  the  tale  of  thy 
youthful  days.  Sorrow,  like  a  cloud  on  the 
fun,  fhades  the  foul  of  Clefsammor.  Mournful 
are  thy  thoughts,  alone,  on  the  banks  of  the 
roaring  Lora.  Let  us  hear  the  forrow  of  thy 
youth,  and  the  darknefs  of  thy  days. 

It  was  In  the  days  of  peace,  replied  the  great 
Clefsammor,  I  came,  in  my  bounding  flilp,  to 
Balclutha's  •f  walls  of  towers.  The  winds  had 
roared  behind  my  fails,  and  Clutha's  J  ftreams 
received  my  dark-bofomed  veflel.  Three  dayy 
I  remained  in  Rcuthamir's  halls,  and  faw  that 

*  Moina,  y^/?  in  temper  and  per/on.  We  find  the  Britifh  names 
in  this  poem  derived  from  the  Galic,  •  which  is  a  proof  that  the 
ancient  language  of  the  whole  illand  was  one  and  the  fame. 

t  Balclutha,  /.  e.  the  to'wn  of  dyJe,  probably  the  Ahluth  pf 
Bede. 

X  Clutha,  or  Cluath,  the  Galic  name  of  the  river  Qyde,  the 
Signification  of  the  word  is  bending^  in  allufion  to  the  winding 
courfe  of  that  river.  From  Clutha  is  derived  its  Latin  name, 
Glotta. 

N  4  beam 


i84  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

beam  pf  UgHt,  his  daughter.  The  joy  of  the 
fhell  went  round,  and  the  aged  hero  gave  the 
f^ir.  Her  breads  were  like  foam  on  the  wave, 
and  her  eyes  like  ftars  of  light :  her  hair  was 
dark  as  the  raven's  wing  :  her  foul  was  generous 
and  niild.  My  love  for  Moina  was  great ;  apd 
my  heart  poured  forth  in  joy. 

The  fon  of  a  flranger  came  ;  a  chief  who 
Igved  the  white-bofomed  Moina.  His  words 
were  mighty  in  the  hall,  and  he  often  half-un- 
Ihcathed  his  fword. — Where,  he  faid,  is  the 
mighty  Comhal,  jthe  reftlefs  wanderer  *  of  the 
heath  ?  Comes  he,  with  his  hoft,  to  Balcluthq^ 
fince  Clefsammor  is  fo  bold  ?  • 

My  foul,  I  replied,  O  warrior !  burns  iji  a 
light  of  its  own.  I  ftand  without  fear  in  the 
midft  of  thoufands,  though  the  valiant  are  dif- 
tant  far. — Stranger !  thy  words  are  mighty,  for 
Clefsammor  is  alone.  But  my  fword  trembles 
by  my  fide,  and  longs  to  glitter  in  my  hand.— - 
Speak  no  more  of  Comhal,  fon  of  the  winding 
Clutha! 

The  flrength  of  his  pride  arofe.  We  fought  j 
he  fell  JDeneath  my  fword.    The  banks  of  Cluth^ 

•  The  word  in  the  original  here  rendered  by  reftlefs  ixanderert 
Js  Zcuta,  which  is  the  true  origin  of  the  Scott  of  the  Romans  ;  an 
i^pprobrious  name  impofed  by  the  Britons,  on  the  Caledonians, 
on  account  of  the  continual  incuriions  into  their  country. 

heard 


A       P    O    E    Mt  iS$ 

heard  his  fall,  and  a  thoufand  fpears  glittered 
around.  I  fought :  the  Grangers  prevailed :  I 
plunged  into  tlie  flream  of  Clutha.  My  white 
fails  rofe  oyer  the  waves^  and  1  bounded  on  the 
dark-blue  fea. — Molna  came  to  the  fhore,  and 
foiled  the  red  eye  of  her  tears :  her  dark  hair 
ilew  on  the  wind;  and  I  heard  her  cries.— Of- 
ten did  I  turn  my  fhip  1  but  the  winds  of  the 
Eaft  prevailed.  Nor  Clutha  ever  iince  have  I 
feen :  nor  Moii^a  of  the  dark  brown  hair. — 
She  fell  in  Balclutha  :  for  I  have  feen  her  ghoft. 
J  knew  her  as  fhe  came  through  the  diifky  night,' 
along  the  murmur  of  Lora  :  fhe  was  like  the 
new  moon  *  feen  through  the  gathered  mift : 
when  the  iky  pours  down  its  flaky  fnow,  and 
the  world  is  filent  and  dark. 


*  Infer  quas  Phcsnijfa  recens  a  'vohere  DiJo 
Erralot  Jylta  in  rnagna  :  quam  Troius  heros 
Vt  fi:/r.utnjuxtajletity  agnovitque perumbram 
Oh/curam,  cuulem  frimo  qui furgere  tnerfe 
Aut  nildetf  aut  'vidijfe  futat  per  nubila  lunam,  l^c. 

Not  far  from  thefe  PhcEnician  Dido  ftood, 

Frefh  from  her  wound,  her  bofom  bath'd  in  blood. 

Whom  when  the  Trojan  hero  hardly  knew 

Obfcure  in  fhades,  and  with  a  doubtful  view. 

Doubtful  as  he  who  runs  thro'  duiky  night, 

px  thinks  he  fees  the  moon's  uncertain  light,  &c. 

Dryden. 


R.AI5E, 


i86  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

Ra  ise  *,  ye  bards,  faid  the  mighty  Flngaf,'  tlUe 
praife  of  unhappy  Moina.  Call  her  ghoft,  with 
your  fongs,  to  our  hills  ;  that  Ihe  may  reft  with 
the  fair  of  Morven,  the  fun-beams  of  other 
days,  and  tlie  delight  of  heroes  of  old. — I  have 
fcen  the  walls  -f  of  Balclutha,  but  they  were  de- 
foLite.  The  fire  had  refounded  in  the  halls  r' 
and  the  voice  of  the  people  is  heard  no  more. 
The  ftream  of  Clutha  was  removed  from  its 
place,  by  the  fall  of  the  walls. — The  thiftle 
ihook,  there,  its  lonely  head  :  the  mofs  whiftled 
to  the  wind.  The  fox  looked  out,  from  the 
windows,  the  rank  grafs  of  the  wall  waved 
round  his  head.— -Defolate  is  the  dwelling  of 
Moina,  filence  is  in  the  houfe  of  her  fathers. — 
Raife  the  fong  of  mourning,  O  bards,  over 
the  land  of  ftrangers.  They  have  but  fallen  be- 
fore us :  for,  one  day,  we  muft  fall. — Why  doft 
thou  build  the  hall,  fon  of  the  winged  days  ? 

*  The  title  of  this  poem,  in  the  original,  is  Duan  na  tilaoi, 
i,  e.  The  Poem  of  the  Hvmns :  probably  on  account  of  its  many 
<iigrefiicns  from  the  fubjeft,  all  which  are  in  a  lyric  mcafure,  as 
this  fong  of  Fingal.  Fingal  is  celebrated  by  the  Irifh  hiftorians 
for  his  vvifjom  in  making  laws,  his  poetical  genius,  and  his  fore- 
knoivledge  of  events. — O'Flaherty  goes  ib  far  as  to  fay,  that 
Fingers  laws  were  extant  in  his  own  time. 

-{■  The  reader  may  compare  this  paffiige  with  the  three  lail 
verfes  of  the  i  3th  chapter  of  Ifaiah,  where  the  prophet  foretels 
the  dcftrutticn  of  Biibyion. 

Thou 


^^h    poem;         187 

Thou  lookeft  from  tliy  towers  to-day  ;  yet  a  few- 
years,  and  the  blaft  of  the  defart  comes ;  it  howls 
in  thy  empty  court,  and  whiftles  round  thy 
half-worn  fhicld.— And  let  the  blaft  of  the  de- 
fart *come  !  we  Iball  be  renowned  in  our  day. 
The  mark  of  my  arm  Ihall  be  in  the  battle,  and 
my  name  in  the  fong  of  bards.— Raife  the  fong ; 
fend  round  the  fhell :  and  let  joy  be  heard  in  my 
hall. — When  thou,  fun  of  heaven,  llialt  fail !  if 
thou  ibalt  fail,  thou  mighty  llglit  !  if  thy 
brightnefs  is  for  a  feafon,  like  Fingal  j  our  fame 
Ihall  furvive  thy  beams. 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Fingal,  in  the  day  of 
liis  joy.  His  thoufand  bards  leaned  forward 
from  their  feats,  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  king. 
It  was  like  the  mufic  of  the  harp  on  the  gale  of 
the  ipring. — Lovely  were  thy  thoughts,  O  Fin- 
gal !  why  had  not  Oflian  the  ftrength  of  thy 
foul  ?— But  thou  ftandeft  alone,  my  father  ;•  and 
who  can  equal  the  king  of  Morven  ? 

The  night  paiTed  away  in  fong,  and  morning 
returned  in  joy;— the  mountains  fliewed  their, 
gray  heads ;  and  the  blue  face  of  ocean  fmiled. 
— The  white  wave  is  feen  tumbling  round  the 
diftant  rock  ;  the  gray  mift  rifes,  flowly,  from 
the  lake.  It  came,  in  the  figure  of  an  aged  man, 
along  the  filcnt  plain.  Its  large  limbs  did  not 
move  In  ftcps ;  for  a  ghoft  fupported  it  in  mid 

air. 


i88  CART    H    O    N: 

air.  It  came  towards  Selma's  hall,  and  diflblvcd 
in  a  Ihower  of  blood. 

The  king  alone  beheld  the  terrible  fi^t,  and 
he  forefaw  the  death  of  the  people.  He  came, 
in  iilence,  to  his  hall  j  and  took  his  father's 
fpear.— The  mail  rattled  on  his  breaft.  The 
heroes  rofe  around.  They  looked,  in  filence,  on 
each  other,  marking  the  eyesof  Fingal.— They 
faw  the  battle  in  his  face  ;  the  deat^  of  armies  on 
his  fpear. — A  thoufand  ihields,  at  once,  are 
placed  on  their  arms ;  and  they  drew  a  thoufand 
fwords.  The  hall  of  Selma  brightened  around.' 
The  clang  of  arms  afcends. — The  gray  dogs 
howl  in  their  place.  No  word  is  among  the 
mighty  chiefs. — Eacli  marked  the  eyes  of  the 
king ;  and  half  aiTumed  his  fpear. 

Sons  of  Morvcn,  begun  the  king,  this  is^no 
time  to  fill  the  fhell.  The  battle  darkens  near 
us ;  and  death  hovers  over  the  land.  Some 
ghoft,  the  friend  of  Fingal,  has  forewarned  us 

of  the  foe. The  fons  of  the  ftranger  come 

from  the  darkly-rolling  fea.  For,  from  the  wa- 
ter, came  the  fign  of  Morven's  gloomy  danger, 
r— Let  each  *  affume  his  heavy  fpear,  and  gird 

on 

*   Ell  ^EJ  T»;  ooff  Sj)|acr9w  sv  oaavtox  0=sr9o. 

*     HoM.  ii-  382. 
His  fharpen'd  fpear  let  every  Grecian  wield, 
Aqd  every  Grecian  fix  his  brazen  fhield,  ^'c.  Pope. 

Let 


A      POEM.  l^ 

on  his  father's  fword. — Let  the  dark  helmet  rife 
on  every  head  ;  and  the  mail  pour  its  lightening^ 
from  every  fide. — The  battle  gathers  like  a  tem- 
peft,  and  foon  Ihall  ye  hear  the  roar  of 
death. 

The  hero  moved  on  before  his  hoft,  like  a 
cloud  before  a  ridge  of  heaven's  fire ;  when  it 
pours  on  the  /ky  of  night,  and  mariners  forefee 
a  ftorm.  On  Cona's  riiing  heath  they  flood : 
the  white-bofomed  maids  beheld  them  above  like 
a  grove;  they  forefaw  the  death  of  their  youths, 
and  looked  towards  the  fea  with  fear. — The 
white  wave  deceived  them  for  diftant  fails,  and 
the  tear  is  on  their  cheek. 

The  fun  rofe  on  the  fea,  and  we  beheld  a 
diftant  fleet. — Like  the  mifl  of  ocean  they  came: 
and  poured  their  youth  upon  the  coaft. — The 
chief  was  among  them,  like  the  flag  in  the 
midft  of  the  herd.— His  fliield  is  ftudded  with 
gold,  and  ftately  flrode  the  king  of  fpears.— He 
moved  towards  Selma  ;  his  thoufands  moved  be-, 
hind. 

Let  each 
His  adamantine  coat  gird  well,  and  each 
Fit  well  his  helm,  gripe  faft  his  orbed  fhield, 
Borne  ev'n  or  high  ;  for  this  day  will  pour  down. 
If  I  conjedlure  right,  no  drilling  ihower, 
But  rattling  llorm  of  arrows  barb'd  with  fire. 

MlITO.V. 

Go. 


^90  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

Go,  with  thy  fong  of  peace,  faid  Fingal ;  j^o, 
UUm,  to  the  king  of  fwords.  Tell  him  that  wc 
are  mighty  in  battle  ;  and  that  the  ghofts  of  our 
foes  are  many. — But  renowned  are  they  who 
have  feafted  in  my  halls !  they  lliew  the  arms  * 
of  my  fathers  in  a  foreign  land :  the  fons  of  the 
firangers  wonder,  and  blefs  the  friends  of  Mor* 
ven's  race ;  for  our  names  have  been  heard  afar  j 
the  kings  of  the  world  Ibook  in  the  midft  of  their 
people. 

Ullin  went  with  his  fong.  Fingal  refted  on 
his  fpear  :  he  faw  the  mighty  foe  in  his  armour: 
and  he  bleft  the  Granger's  fon. 

How  ftatcly  art  thou,  fon  of  the  fea !  faid 
the  king  of  woody  Morven.  Thy  fword  is  a 
beam  of  might  by  thy  fide :  thy  fpear  is  a  fir 
that  defies  the  ftorm.  The  varied  face  of  the 
moon  is  not  broader  than  thy  fhield.— Ruddy  is 
thy  face  of  youth!  foft  the  ringlets  of  thy  hair! 
—But  this  tree  may  fill ;  and  his  memory  be 
forgot ! — The  daughter  of  the  ftranger  will  be 
fad,  and  look  to  the  rolling  fea: — the  children 
will  fiiy,  "  We  fee  a  Ihip  ;  perhaps  It  is  the  king 
*'  of  Balclutha."     The  tear  ftarts  from  their  mo- 


*  It  was  a  cuflom  among  the  ancient  Scots,  to  exchange  arms 
with  thtijT  gued;^,  and  thofe  arms  were  preferved  long  in  the  dif- 
ferent fr,rr.illes,  as  monuments  of  thj  friendfliip  which  fubfifted 
bctwcei)  their  ancellors. 


ther's 


A       P    O    E    M.  191 

therms  eye.    Her  thoughts  are  of  him  that  lleeps 
in  Morven. 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  king,  when  Uilin 
came  to  the  mighty  Carthon :  he  threw  down 
the  fpear  before  him  j  and  raifed  the  fong  of 
peace. 
;  Come  to  the  feaft  of  Fingal,  Carthon,  from 
the  rolling  fea !  partake  the  feaft  of  the  king,  or 
lift  the  fpear  of  war.  The  ghofts  of  our  foes 
are  many:  but  renowned  are  the  friends  of 
Morven ! 

Behold  that  field,  O  Carthon;  many  a  green 
hill  rifes  there,  with  nioiTy  ftones  and  ruftling 
grafs  :  thefe  are  the  tombs  of  Fingal's  foes,  the 
fons  of  the  rolling  fea. 

DosT  thou  fpeak  to  the  feeble  In  arms,  faid 
Carthon,  bard  of  the  woody  Morven  ?  Is  my 
face  pale  for  fear,  fon  of  the  peaceful  fong  ? 
Why,  then,  doft  thou  think  to  darken  my  foul 
with  the  tales  of  thofe  who  fell  ?-  —My  arm  has 
fought  in  the  battle;  my  renown  Is  known  afar. 
Go  to  the  feeble  In  arms,  and  bid  them  yield  to 
Fingal. — Have  not  I  fcen  the  fallen  Balclutha  ? 
And  fliall  1  feaft  with  Comhal's  fon  ?  Comhal  ! 
who  threw  his  fire  in  the  midft  of  my  father's 
hall !  I  was  young,  and  knew  not  the  caufe  wliy 
the  virgins  wept.  The  columns  of  fmokc 
plcafed  mine  eye,    when  they  rofe  above  my 

walls ', 


19^  C    A    R    T    H    b    N: 

walls ;  I  often  looked  back,  with  gladnefs,  wlieA 

my  friends  fled  along  the  hill. ^But  when  thfe 

years  of  my  youth  cartie  on,  I  beheld  the  mofs 
of  my  fallen  walls :  my  figh  arofe  with  thfc 
morning,  and  my  tears  defcended  with  night. 
— Shall  I  not  fight,  I  faid  to  my  foul,  againft 
the  children  of  my  foes  ?  And  I  will  fight,  O 
bard ;  I  feel  the  flrength  of  my  foul. 

His  people  gathered  around  the  hero,  and 
drew,  at  once,  their  fliining  fwords.  He  ftands, 
in  the  rhidft,  like  a  pillar  of  fire  ;  the  tfear  half- 
flarting  from  his  eye  ;  for  he  thought  of  the 
fallen  Balclutha,  and  the  crowded  pride  of  his 
foul  arofe.  Sidelong  he  looked  up  to  the  hill, 
where  our  heroes  fhone  in  arms  ;  the  fpear  trem- 
bled in  his  hand  :  and,  bending  forward^  he 
feemed  to  threaten  the  king. 

Shall  I,  faid  Fin  gal  to  his  foul,  meet,  at 
once,  the  king  ?  Sh:ill  I  flop  him,  in  the  midfl 
of  his  courfc,  before  his  fame  fhall  arife  ?  But 
the  bard,  hereafter,  may  fiy,  when  he  fees  the 
tomb  of  Carthon  j  Fingal  took  his  tlioufands, 
along  with    him,    to  battle,   before   the  noble 

Carthon   fill. No :— bard   of  the   times   to 

come  !  thou  Ibalt  not  leficn  Fingal's  fame.  My 
heroes  will  fight  the  youth,  and  Fingal  behold 
the  battle.  If  he  overcomes,  I  rulli,  in  my 
firength,  like  the  roaring  fiream  of  Cona. 

Who, 


A       P    O    E    M.  193 

Who,  of  my  heroes,  will  meet  the  fon  of  the 
rolling  fea  ?  Many  are  his  warriors  on  the  coaft : 
and  ftrong  is  his  alhen  fpear  ! 

Cathul  *  rofe,  in  his  ftrength,  the  fon  of 
the  mighty  Lormar  :  three  hundred  youths  at- 
tend the  chief,  the  race  -f  of  his  nativ^e  ftreams. 
Feeble  was  his  arm  againft  Carthon,  he  fellj  and 
his  heroes  fled. 

Conn  A  L  ^  refumed  the  battle,  but  he  broke 
his  heavy  fpear :  he  lay  bound  on  the  field  :  and 
Carthon  purfued  his  people. 

Clessammor  !  faid  the  king  ||  of  Morven, 
where  is  the  fpear  of  thy  ftrength  ?  Wilt  thou 
behold  Connal  bound;  thy  friend,  at  the  flream 
of  Lora  ?  Rife,  in  the  light  of  thy  fteel,  thou 
friend  of  Comhal.  Let  the  youth  of  Balclutha 
feel  the  flrength  of  Morven's  race. 

He  rofe  in  the  ftrength  of  his  fteel,  fhaking 
his  grizly  locks.  He  fitted  the  fhield  to  his  fide  3* 
and  rullied,  in  th«  pride  of  valour. 

•  Cath-'huil,  the  eye  of  battle. 

t  It  appears,  from  this  paflage,  that  clanfhip  was  eftablifhed, 
in  the  days  of  Fingal,  though  not  on  the  fame  footing  with  the 
prefent  tribes  in  the  north  of  Scotland. 

X  This  Connal  is  very  much  celebrated,  in  ancient  poetry,  for 
his  wifdom  and  valour  :  there  is  a  fmall  tribe  ftill  fubfilling,  in 
the  North,  who  pretend  they  are  defcended  from  him. 

II  Fingal  did  not  then  know  that  Carthon  was  the  fon  of 
Clefsammor. 

O  Carthon 


jg4  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

j^Carthon^  flood,  on  that  heathy  rock,  and 
few  the  heroes  approach.  He  loved  the  terrible 
joy  of  his  face  :  and  his  ftrength,  in  the  locks  of 
.gge. Shall  I  lift  that  fpear,  he  faid,  that  ne- 
ver ftrikeSi  but  once,  a  foe  ?  Or  fhall  I,  with 
ihe  words  of  peace,  prefer ve  the  warrior's  life  ? 
Stately  are  his  ileps  of  age ! — lovely  the  remnant 
of  his  years.  Perhaps  it  is  the  love  of  lyloina ; 
the  father  of  c.9.r-borne  Carthon.  Often  have  I 
heard,  that  he  dwelt  at  the  echoing  ftream  of 
Lora. 

Sucpi  were  his  words,  when  Clefeammof 
came,  and  lifted  high  his  fpear.  The  youth  re- 
ceived it  on  his  Ihield,  and  fpoke  the  words  of 

peace. Warrior  of  the  aged  locks  !  Is  there 

j>o  youth  to  lift  the  fpear  ?  Haft  thou  no  fon,  to 
raife  the  Ihicld  before  his  father,  and  to  meet 
the  arm  of  youth  ?  Is  the  fpoufe  of  thy  love  no 
more  ?  or  weeps  ihe  over  the  tombs  of  thy  fons? 
Art  thou  of  the  kings  of  men  ?  What  will  be  the 
fame  of  my  fword  if  thou  fhalt  fall  ? 

It  will  be  great,  thou  fon  of  pride !  begun 

.'the  tall  Ciefsammor,     I  have  been  renowned  in 

battle;  but  I  never  told  my  name  *  to  a  foe. 

Yield 


♦  To  tell  one's  name  to  an  enemy  was  reckoned,  in  thofe 

''  days  of  heroifm,  a  manifeft  evafion  of  fighting  him  ;  for,  if  it 

was  oace  known,  that  frieudlhip  fubfUled,  of  old,  between  the 

ancellors 


A  .    Fi  O    E    M.  t9$ 

Yield  to  me,  fon  of  the  wave,  and  then  thoU 
Ihalt  know,  that  the  mark  of  rfty  fword  is  in 
many  a  field. 

I  NEVER  yielded,  king  of  fpears !  replied  th^ 
noble  pride  of  Carthon  :  I  have  alfo  fought  in 
battles  ;  and  I  behold  my  future  fame.  Defpife 
me  not,  thou  chief  of  men  ;  my  arm,  my  fpear 
is  ftrong.  Retire  among  thy  friends,  and  let 
young  heroes  fight. 

Why  doft  thou  wound  my  foul,  replied 
Clefsammor  with  a  tear  ?  Age  does  not  tremble 
on  my  hand  ;  I  fiill  can  lift  the  fword.  Shall  I 
fly  in  Fingal's  fight ;  in  the  fight  of  him  I  loved  ? 
Son  of  the  fea  !  I  never  fled  :  exalt  thy  pointed 
Ipear. 

ThIey  fought,  like  two  contending  winds, 
that  ftrive  to  roll  the  wave.  Carthon  bade  his 
fpear  to.  err ;  for  he  ftill  thought  that  the  foe  was 

the  fpoufe  of  Moina. He  broke  Clefsammor's 

beamy  fpear  in  twain  :  and  feized  his  fhining 
fword.  But  as  Carthon  was  binding  the  chief; 
the  chief  drew  the  dagger  of  his  fathers.  He 
faw  the  foe's  uncovered  fide  ;  and  opened,  there, 
a  wound. 


anceftors  of  the  combatants,  the  battle  immediaiely  ceafc<l ;  and 
the  ancient  amity  of  their  forefathers  was  renewed.  A  man  ijoho 
tells  hii  va-r.c  to  his  enemy,  was  of  old  an  ignomiaious  term  for  a 
coward. 

O  2  FiNGAL 


196  C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

FiNGAL  faw  Clefsdmmor  low  :  he  moved  In 
the  found  of  his  fteel.  The  hoft  flood  filent,  in 
his  prefence  ;  they  turned  their  eyes  towards  the 
hero. — He  came,  Hke  the  fullen  noife  of  a  ftorm, 
before  the  winds  arife :  the  hunter  hears  it  in  the 
Vale,  and  retires  to  the  cave  pf  the  rock. 

Cart  HON  flood  in  his  place:  the  blood  is 
rufhing  down  his  fide  :  he  faw  the  coming  down 
of  the  king  -,  and  his  hopes  of  fame  arofe  * ;  but 
pale  was  his  cheek  :  his  hair  flew  loofe,  his  hel- 
met Ihook  on  high  :  the  force  of  Carthon  failed  ; 
but  his  foul  was  flrong. 

FiNGAL  beheld  the  heroes  blood;  he  ftopt 
the  uplifted  fpear.  Yield,  king  of  fwords  !  faid 
Comhal's  fon  ;  I  behold  thy  blood.  Thou  haft 
been  mighty  in  battle;  and  thy  fame  fliall  never 
fade. 

Art  thou  the  king  fo  far  renowned,  replied 
the  car-borne  Carthon  ?  Art  thou  that  light  of 
death,  that  frightens  the  kings  of  the  world  ?— 
But  why  fhould  Carthon  afk  ?  for  he  is  like  the 
flream  of  liis  defart ;  flrong  as  a  river.  In  his 
courfe :  fwift  as  the  eagle  of  the  fky.— O  that  I 
had  fought  with  the  king  ;  that  my  fame  might 

•  This  exprefilon  admits  of  a  double  meaning,  cither  that 
Carthon  hoped  to  acquire  glory  by  killing  Fingal  ;  or  to  be  ren- 
dered famous  by  falling  by  his  hand.  The  laft  is  the  moft  pro- 
bable, as  Carthon  ij  already  wounded. 

.  ^  b« 


A      POEM.  197 

be  great  in  the  fong  !  that  the  hunter,  beholding 
my  tomb,  might  fay,  he  fought  with  the  mighty 
Fingal.  But  Carthon  dies  unknown  j  he  has 
poured  out  his  force  on  the  feeble. 

But  thou  Ihalt  not  die  unknown,  replied  the 
king  of  woody  Morven  :  my  bards  are  many, 
O  Carthon,  and  their  fongs  defcend  to  future 
times.  The  children  of  the  years  to  come  Ihall 
hear  the  fame  of  Carthon  ;  when  they  lit  round 
the  burning  oak  *,  and  the  night  is  fpent  in  the 
fongs  of  old.  The  hunter,  fitting  in  the  heath, 
Ihall  hear  the  ruftling  blaft  j  and,  railing  his 
eyes,  behold  the  rock  where  Carthon  fell.  He 
Ihall  turn  to  his  fon,  and  Ihew  the  place  where 
the  mighty  fought  j  **  There  the  king  of  Bal- 
clutha  fought,  like  the  ftrength  of  a  thoufand 
ftreams," 

Joy  rofe  in  Carthon's  face:  he  lifted  his  heavy 

eyes. He  gave  his  fword  to  Fingal,  to  \i^ 

within  his  hall,  that  the  memory  of  Balclutha's 
king  might  remain  on  Morven. — The  battle 
ceafcd  along  the  field,  for  the  bard  had  fung 
the  fong  of  peace.  The  chiefs  gathered  round 
the  falling  Carthon,  and  heard  his  words,  with 

•  In  the  north  of  Scotland,  till  very  lately,  they  burnt  a  large 
trunk  of  an  oak  at  their  feftivals ;  it  was  called  the  trunk  of  the 
feafi.  Time  had  fo  much  confecrated  the  cuftom,  that  the 
vulgar  thought  it  a  kind  of  facrilege  to  difufe  it. 

O  3  fighs. 


193*        C    A    R    T    H    O    N: 

fighs.  Silent  they  leaned  on  their  fpears,  while 
Balclutha's  hero  fpoke.  His  hair  fighed  in  the 
wind,  and  his  words  were  feeble. 

King  of  Morven,  Carthon  fald,  I  fall  in  the 
midft  of  my  courfe.  A  foreign  tomb  receives, 
in  youth,  the  I'aft  af  Reuthamir's  race.  Dark- 
liefs  d^v•eUs  in  Balclutha  :  and  the  lliadows  of 
grief  in  Grathmo, — But  raife  my  remembrance 
on  the  banks  of  Lora  :  where  my  fathers  dwelt. 
Perhaps  the  Imfband  of  Moina  will  mourn  over 
}iis  fallen  Carthon. 

His  words  reached  the  heart  of  Clefsammor  : 
he  fell,  in  filence,  on  his  fon.  The  hoft'  flood 
darkened  around  :  no  voice  is  on  the  plains  of 
Lora.  Night  came,  and  the  moon,  from  the 
eaft,  looked  on  the  mournful  field :  but  ftill  they 
flood,  like  a  filent  grove  that  lifts  its  head  on 
Gormal,  when  the  loud  winds  are  laid,  and  dark 
autumn  is  on  the  plain. 

Th^ee  days  they  mourned  over  Carthon  ;  on 
the  fourth  his  father  died.  In  the  narrow  plain 
of  the  rock  they  liej  and  a  dim  ghofl  defends 
their  tomb.  'There  lovely  Moina  is  often  feen  ; 
when  the  fun-beam  darts  on  the  rock,  and  all 
around  is  dark.  There  fhe  is  feen,  Malvina, 
but  not  like  the  daughters  of  the  hill.  Her 
robes  are  from  the  flrangers  land  ;  and  flie  is 
liijl  alone, 

FiNGAL 


A       P    O    EM.  199 

FiNGAt  was  fad  for  Carthon;  he  deiired  his 
bards  td  mark  tlie  day,  when  ihadowy  autumn 
rettitlfed'.  And  often  did  they  mark  the  day  and 
flng  the  hero's  praife.  Who  comes  fodark  from 
deeanV  roar,  like  autumn's  Ihadowy  cloud?- 
r>eath  is  trembling  in  his  hand  !  his  eyes  are* 

flames  of  fire  ! -Who  roars  along  dark  Lora's 

heath?  Who  but  Carthon  king  of  fwords  ?  The 
people  fall!  feeV'how  he  ftrides,  like  the  fullen 
ghoft  of  Morven ! — But  there  he  lies  a  goodly 
oak,  vi'hich  fudHen  blafts  overturned !  When 
fhalt'thou  rife,  Balclutha's  joy  !  lovely  car-borne 

Carthon  ? Who  comes  fo  dark  from  ocean's 

roa:r,  like  autumn's  Ihadowy  cloud  ? 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  bard^,  in  the  day 
of  their  mourning  :  I  have  accompanied  their 
voice ;  and  added  to  their  fong.  My  foul  has 
been  mournful  for  Carthon  j  he  fell  in  the  days 
of  his  valour  :  and  thou,  O  Clefs:immor  !  where 
is  thy  dwelling  in  the  air?— Has  the  youth  for- 
got his  wound  ?  And  flies  he,  on  the  clouds, 

with  thee  ? 1  feel  the  fun,  O  Malvina,  leave 

me  to  my  reft.  Perhaps  they  may  come  to  my 
dreams ;  I  think  I  hear  a  feeble  voice. — The 
beam  of  heaven  delights  to  fliine  on  the  grave  of 
Carthon;  I  feel  it  warm  around. 

O  4  O  TIIOU 


200  C    A     R    T    H    O     N: 

O  THOU  that  rolleft  above*,  round  as  the 
lliield  of  my  fathers!  Whence  are  thy  beams,  O 
fun  I  thy  everlafting  light  ?  Thou  comeft  forth, 
'  in  thy  awful  beauty,  and  the  ftars  hide  them- 
felves  in   the  iky  j   the  moon,  cold   and  pale, 
finks  in  the  weftern  wave.     But  thou  thyfelf 
moveft  alone  :  who  can  be  a  companion  of  thy 
courfe !  The  oaks   of  the  mountains  fall:  the 
mountains    themfelves   decay   with  years ;   the 
ocean  flirinks  and  grows  again :  the  moon  herfelf 
is  loft  in  heaven  ;  but  thou  art  for   ever  the 
fame  ;  rejoicing  in  the  brightnefs  of  thy  courfe. 
When  the  world  is  dark  with  tempefts ;  when 
thimder  rolls,  ^nd  lightning  flies ;  thou  lookeft 
in  thy  beauty,  from  the  clouds,  and  laugheft  at 
the  ftorm.     But  to  Offian,  thou  lookeft  in  vain ; 
for  he  beholds  thy  beams  no  more ;  whether  thy 
yellow  hair  flows  on  the  eaftern  clouds,  or  thou 
trembleft  at  the  gates  of  the  weft.     But  thou  art 
perhaps,  like  me,  for  a  feafon,  and  thy  years 
will   have  an  end.     Thou   fhalt  fleep  in    thy 

•  This  paflage  is  fomexhing  fimilar  to  Satan's  addrefs  to  the 
Sun    in  the  fourth  book  qf  Paradife  Loft. 

O  thou  that  with  furpafiing  glory  crown-d. 
Looks  from  thy  fole  dominion  like  the  god 
Of  this  new  world;  at  whofe  fight  all  the  ftaw 
Hide  their  diminifh'd  heads;  to  thee  I  call. 
But  with  no  friendly  voice,  and  add  thy  jiamp 
0  Scnl 

clouds, 


A       P    O    E    M.  201 

clouds,  carelefs  of  the  voice  of  the  morning. 
Exult  then,  O  fun,  in  the  ftrength  of  thy 
youth !  Age  is  dark  and  unlovely  ;  it  is  like  the 
glimmering  light  of  the  moon,  when  it  Ihines 
through  broken  clouds,  and  the  mift  is  on  the 
hills  J  the  blaft  of  the  north  is  on  the  plain,  the 
traveller  Ihrinks  in  the  midft  of  his  journey. 


THE 


f      202      3 


T   H   E 


DEATH   of  CUCHULLIN; 
A       P     O     E     M*. 


IS  the  wind  on  Fingal's  fhleld?  Or  is  the 
voice  of  paft  times  in  my  hall  ?  Sing  on, 
fwect  voice,  for  thou  art  pleafant,  and  carrieft 
away  my  night  with  joy.  Sing  on,  O  Bragela, 
daughter  of  car-borne  Songlan  ! 

It 

•  Tradition  throws  confiderable  light  on  the  hiflory  of  Ire- 
land, during  the  long  reign  of  Fingal,  the  fon  of  Comhal,  in 
Morven. — Arth,  the  fon  of  Cairbre,  fupreme  king  of  Ireland, 

dying,   was  fucceeded  by  his  fon  Connac,  a  minor. The 

petty  kings  and  chiefs  of  the  tribes  met  at  Temora,  the  royal 
palace,  in  order  to  chufe,  out  of  their  own  number,  a  guardian 
to  the  young  king.  Difputes,  concerning  the  choice  of  a  proper 
perfon,  run  high,  and  it  was  refolved  to  end  all  differences  by 
giving  the  tuition  of  the  young  king  to  Cuchullin,  the  fon  of 
Semo,  who  had  rendered  himfelf  famous  by  his  great  anions, 
and  who  refidcd,  at  the  time,  with  Connal,  the  fon  of  Caith- 
bat,  in  Ulfler. 

Cuchullin  was  but  three  and  twenty  years  old,  when  he  af- 
fumed  the  management  of  affairs  in  Ireland  :  and  the  invafion 
of  Swaran  happened  two  years  after.  In  the  twenty-feventh 
year  of  Cuchullin's  age,  and  the  third  of  his  adminillration, 
Torlath,  the  fon  of  Cantela,  one  of  the  chiefs  of  that  colony  of 

Eclgs, 


A       POEM.  203 

It  is  the  white  wave  of  the  rock,  and  notCu- 
chullin's  fails.  Often  do  the  mifts  deceive  me 
for  the  ihip  of  my  love  !  when  they  rife  round 

fome 

Belgae,  who  were  in  poflefiion  of  the  fouth  of  Ireland,  fet  up  for 
himfelf  in  Connaught,  and  advanced  towards  Temora,  in  order 
to  dethrone  Cormac,  who,  excepting  Feradath,  afterwards  king 
of  Ireland,  was  the  only  one  of  the  Scotch  race  of  kings  exift- 
ing  in  that  country,  Cuchullin  marched  againft  him,  came  up 
with  him  at  the  lake  of  Lego,  and  totally  defeated  his  forces, 
Torlath  fell  in  the  battle  by  Guchullin's  hand  ;  but  as  he  him- 
felf prelled  too  eagerly  on  the  flying  enemy,  he  was  mortally 
wounded  by  an  arrow,  and  died  the  fecond  day  after. 

The  good  fortune  of  Cormac  fell  with  Cuchullin :  many  Cet^  up 
for  themfelves,  and  anarchy  and  confufion  reigned.  At  laft 
Cormac  was  taken  off ;  and  Cairbar,  lord  of  Atha,  one  of  the 
competitors  for  the  throne,  having  defeated  all  his  rivals,  be- 
came folc  monarch  of  Ireland. The  family  of  Fingal,  who 

were  in  the  intereft  of  Cormac's  family,  were  refolved  to  deprive 
Cairbar  of  the  throne  he  had  ufurped  ;  in  particular,  Ofcar  the 
fon  of  Olfian  had  determined  to  revenge  the  death  of  Cathol,  his 
friend,  who  had  been  affaffinatcd  by  Cairbar, — The  threats  of 
Ofcar  reached  Cairbar's  ears  :  he  invited  him  in  a  friendly  manner 
to  a  feaft  which  he  had  prepared  at  the  royal  palace  of  Temora, 
refolving  to  pick  a  quarrel,  and  have  fome  pretext  for  killing 
him. 

The  quarrel  happened  ;  the  followen  of  both  fought,,  and 
and  Cairbar  and  Ofcar  fell  by  mutual  wounds :  in  the  mean  time 
Fingal  arrived  from  Scotland  with  an  army,  defeated  the  friends 
of  Cairbar,  and  re-eftablilhed  the  family  of  Cormac  in  the  pof- 
'effion  of  the  kingdom. — —The  prefent  poem  concerns  the 
death  of  Cuchullin.  It  is,  in  the  original,  called  Duuti  loch 
LeigOy  i,  e.  The  Poem  of  Lego" i  Lake,  and  is  an  epifode  introduced 
in  a  great  poem,  which  celebrated  the  laft  expedition  of  Fingal 
into  Ireland.  The  greateft  part  of  the  poem  is  loft,  and  nothing 
remains  but  fome  epifodes,  which  a  few  old  people  in  the  north 

pf  ScoUand  retain  on  memory. Cuchulliii  is  the  moft  famous 

champion 


204    The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN  : 

feme  ghoft,  and  fpread  their  gray  fklrts  on  the 
wind.  Why  deft  thou  delay  thy  coming,  fon  of 
the  generous  Semo  ? — Four  times  has  autumn 
returned  with  its  winds,  and  raifed  the  feas  of 
Togorma  *,  fince  thou  haft  been  in  the  roar  of 
battles,  and  Bragela  diftant  far. — Hills  of  the 
ifle  of  mift  !  when  will  ye  anfwer-to  his  hounds? 

But  ye  are  dark  in  your  clouds,  and  fad 

Bragela  calls  in  vain.  Night  conies  rolling 
down :  the  face  of  ocean  fails.  The  heath- 
cock's  head  is  beneath  his  wing  :  the  hind  fleeps 
with  the  hart  of  the  defart.  They  Ihall  rife  with 
the  morning's  light,  and  feed  on  the  moffy 
ftream.     But  my  tears  return  with  the  fun,  my 

champion  in  the  Irifh  traditions  and  poems ;  in  them  he  is  al- 
ways called  the  redoubtable  Cuchullin ;  and  the  fables  concerning 
his  ftrength  and  valour  are  innumerable,  Offian  thought  his  ex- 
pedition againft  the  Fir-bolg,  or  Belgae  of  Britain,  a  fubjeft  fit 
for  an  epic  poem  ;  which  was  extant  till  of  late,  and  was  called 
Tora-na-tana,  or  a  Di/pute  about  PoJfeJJionSf  as  the  war  which 
was  the  foundation  of  it,  was  commenced  by  the  Britifh  Belgae, 
who  inhabited  Ireland,  in  order  to  extend  their  territories.— 
The  fragments  that  remain  of  this  poem  are  animated  with  the 
genuine  fpirit  of  Offian ;  fo  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it 
was  of  his  compofition. 

*  Togorma,  /.  t.  The  ijland  of  blue  nvaves,  one  of  the  He- 
brides, was  fubjeft  to  Connal,  the  fon  of  Caithbat,  Cuchullin's 
friend. — He  is  fometimes  called  the  fon  of  Colgar,  from  one  of 

that  name  who  was  the  founder  of  the  family.- Connal,  a  few 

days  before  the  news  of  Torlath's  revolt  came  to  Temora,  had 
failed  to  Togorma,  his  native  ifle ;  where  he  was  detained  by 
contrary  winds  during  the  war  in  which  Cuchullin  was  killed. 

fighs 


A       P    O    £    M.  205 

fighs  come  on  with  the  night.  When  wilt 
thou  come  in  thine  arms,  O  chief  of  mofTy 
Tura? 

Pleasant  is  thy  voice  In  Oflian's  ear, 
daughter  of  car-borne  Sorglan!  But  retire  to 
the  hall  of  fhells  ;  to  the  beam  of  the  burning 

oak. Attend  to  the  murmur  of  the  fea :  it 

rolls  at  Dunfcaich's  walls :  let  fleep  defcend  on 
thy  blue  eyes,  and  the  hero  come  to  thy 
dreams. 

CucHULLiN  fits  at  Lego's  lake,  at  the  dark 
rolling  of  waters.  Night  is  around  the  hero ;, 
and  his  thoufands  fpread  on  the  heath  :  a  hun- 
dred oaks  burn  in  the  midft,  the  feaft  of  Ihells 
is  finoaking  wide.— Carril  ftrikes  the  harp,  be- 
neath a  tree  j  his  gray  locks  glitter  in  the  beam  -, 
the  ruftling  blaft  of  night  is  near,  and  lifts  his 
aged  hair.— His  fong  is  of  the  blue  Togorma, 
and  of  its  chief,  CuchuUin's  friend. 

Why  art  thou  abfent,  Connal,  in  the  day  of 
the  gloomy  ftorm  ?  The  chiefs  of  the  fouth  have 
convened  againft  the  car-borne  Cormac :  the 
winds  detain  thy  fails,  and  thy  blue  waters  roll 
around  thee.  But  Cormac  is  not  alone  :  the  fon 
of  Semo  fights  his  battles.  Semo's  fon  his  bat- 
tles fights!  the  terror  of  the  ftranger  !  he  that 

is 


2o6    The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN  j 

is  like  the  vapour  of  death  *,  flowly  borne  by 
fultry  winds.  The  fun  reddens  in  its  prefence> 
the  people  fall  around. 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Carril,  when  a  fon  of 
the  foe  appeared  3  he  threw  down  his  pointlefs 
fpear^  and  fpoke  the  words  of  Torlath,  Tor- 
Jath  the  chief  of  heroes,  from  Lego's  fable 
furge  :  he  that  led  his  thoufands  to  battle,  againft 
car-borne  Cormac,  Cormac,  who  was  diftant 
far,  in  Temora's  '(-  echoing  halls :  he  learned  to 
bend  the  bow  of  his  fathers ;  and  to  lift  the 
fpear.  Nor  long  didft  thou  lift  the  fpear, 
mildly-lhining  beam  of  youth !  death  ftands  dim 
behind  thee,  like  the  darkened  half  of  the  moon 
behind  its  growing  light. 

Cue  HULL  IN  rofe  before  the  bard  t,  that 
came  from  generous  Torlath  j  he  offered  him 

the 

HOM.  II.  54 
As  vapours  blown  by  Aufter's  fultry  breath, 
Pregnaot  with  plagues,  and  ihedding  feeds  of  death. 
Beneath  the  rage  of  burning  Sirius  rife, 
Choke  the  parch'd  earth,  and  blacken  all  the  Ikies. 

POPB. 

f  The  royal  palace  of  the  Irifh  kings  j  Teamhrath  accordiiig 
to  fome  of  the  bards* 

X  The  bards  were  tjie  heralds  of  ancient  times ;  and  their  per-* 
fons  were  facred  on  account  of  their  office.  In  later  times  they 
abufed  that  privilege  ;  and  as  their  perfons  were  inviolable,  they 

iatyrifcd 


the  fhell  of  joy,  and  honoured  the  fon  of  fongs. 
Sweet  voice  of  Lego !  he  faid,  what  are  the 
words  of  Torlath  ?  Comes  he  to  our  feajft  ox 
battle,  the  <:ar-borne  fon  of  Cantela  *  ? 

He  comes  to  thy  battle,  replied  the  bard,  to 

ihe  founding  ftrife  of  fpears. When  morning 

is  gray  on  Lego,  Torlath  will  fight  on  the 
■plain  :  and  wilt  tliou  meet  him>  in  thine  arms, 
king  of  the  ifle  of  mift  ?  Terrible  is  the  fpear  of 
Torlath !  it  is  a  meteor  of  night.  He  lifts  it,  and 
•the  people  fall :  death  fits  in  the  lightning  of  his 
fword. 

Do  I  fear,  replied  Cuchullin,  the  fpear  of 
car-borne  Torlath  ?  He  is  brave  as  a  thoufand 
heroes  j  but  my  foul  delights  in  war.  The 
fword  refts  not  by  the  fide  of  Cuchullin,  bard  of 
the  times  of  old !  Morning  fhall  meet  me  on 
the  plain,  and  gleam  on  the  blue  arms  of  Semo's 
fon. — But  fit  thou,  on  the  heath,  O  bard!  and 
let  us  hear  thy  voice :  partake  of  the  joyful 
fhell }  and  hear  the  fongs  of  Temora. 

This  is  no  time,  replied  the  bard,  to  hear 
the  fong  of  joy  j  when  the  mighty  are  to  meet 

fatyrifed  and  lampooned  fo  freely  thofe  who  were  not  liked  by 
their  patrons,  that  they  became  a  public  nuifance.     Screened 
under  the  charader  of  heralds,  they  groily  abufcd  the  enemy 
when  he  would  not  accept  the  terms  they  offered, 
*  Cean-teola',  htad  of  afamily, 

in 


jo8     The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN: 

in  battle  like  the  ftrength  of  the  waves  of  Lego. 
Why  art  thou  fo  dark,  Slimora  * !  with  all  thy 
Ulent  woods?  No  green  ftar  trembles  on  thy 
top  ;  no  moon-beam  on  thy  fide.  But  the  me- 
teors of  death  are  there,  and  the  gray  watry 
forms  of  ghofts.  Why  art  thou  da^k,  Slimora ! 
with  thy  filent  woods  ? 

'  He  retired,  in  the  found  of  his  fong ;  Carrll 
accompanied  his  voice.  The  mufic  was  like  the 
memory  of  joys  that  are  paft,  pleafant  and 
mournful  to  the  foul.  The  ghofts  of  departed 
bards  heard  it  from  Slimora's  fide.  Soft  founds 
fpread  along  the  wood,  and  the  filent  valleys  of 

night  rejoice. So,  when  he  fits  in  the  filence 

of  noon,  in  the  valley  of  his  breeze,  the  hum- 
ming of  the  mountain  bee  comes  to  Ofiiian's  ear: 
the  gale  drowns  it  often  in  its  courfe  j  but  the 
pleafant  found  returns  again. 

Raise,  faid  Cuchullin,  to  his  hundred  bards, 
the  fong  of  the  noble  FIngal :  that  fong  which 
he  hears  at  night,  when  the  dreams  of  his  reft 
defcend  :  when  the  bards  ftrike  the  diftant  harp, 
and  the  faint  light  gleams  on  Selma's  walls.  Or' 
let  the  grief  of  Lara  rife,  and  the  fighs  of  the 
mother  of  Calmarf,  when  he  was  fought,  in 

vain, 

•  Slia'-mor,  great  liU. 

t  Calmar  the  fon  of  Matha.     His  death  is  related  at  large,  in 
the  third  book  of  Fingal.     He  was  the  only  Ton  of  Matha;  and 

the 


A       POEM.  209 

vain,  on  his  hills  5  and  fhe  beheld  his  bow  in 
the  hall.— — Carril,  place  the  fhield  of  Caithbat 
on  that  branch ;  and  let  the  fpear  of  Cuchullin 
be  near  j  that  the  found  of  my  battle  may  rife 
with  the  gray  beam  of  the  eaft. 

The  hero  leaned  on  his  father's  fhield  :  the 
fong  of  Lara  rofe.  The  hyndred  bards  were 
diftant  far  :  Carril  alone  is  near  the  chief.  The 
words  of  the  fong  were  his ;  and  the  found  of 
his  harp  was  mournful. 

'Alcletha  *  with  the  aged  locks !  mother  of 
car-borne  Calmar !  why  doft  thdu  look  towards 
the  defart,  to  behold  the  return  of  thy  fon  ? 
Thefe  are  not  his  heroes,  dark  on  the  heath  : 
nor  is  that  the  voice  of  Calmar  :  it  is  but  the 
diftant  grove,  Alcletha !  but  the  roar  of  tlie 
mountain  wind ! 

Who  "f  bounds  over  Lara's  ftrcam,  fifter  of 
the  noble  Calmar?  Does  not  Alcletha  behold  his 

the  family  was  extinft  in  him. — The  feat  of  the  family  was  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  Lara,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lego,  and 
probably  near  the  place  where  Cuchullin  lay;  which  ciicum- 
ftance  fuggefted  to  him,  the  lamentation  of  Alcletha  over  her 
fon. 

*  Ald-cla'tha,  decaying  leauty :  probably  a  poetical  name 
given  the  mother  of  Calmar,  by  the  bard  himfelf, 

t  Alcletha  fpeaks.  Calmar  had  promifcd  to  return,  by  a  cer- 
tain day,  and  his  mother  and  his  filler  Alona  are  reprefented  by 
the  bard  as  looking,  with  impatience,  towards  that  quarter  wher>; 
they  cx'peded  Calmar  would  make  his  firil  appearance. 

V  fpear? 


2IO     The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN: 

fpear  ?  But  her  eyes  are  dim !  Is  it  not  the  fort 
of  Matha,  daughter  of  my  love  ? 

It  is  but  an  aged  oak,  Alcletha !  replied  the 
lovely  weeping  Alona  * ;  it  is  but  an  oak,  Al- 
cletha, bent  overLara's  ftream.  But  who  comes 
along  the  plain  ?  forrow  is  in  his  fpeed.  He 
lifts  high  the  fpear  of  Calmar.  Alcletha,  it  is 
covered  with  blood! 

But  it  is  covered  with  the  blood  of  foes  •f-, 
fifter  of  car-borne  Calmar  !  his  fpear  never  re- 
turned unftaincd  with  blood  i,  nor  his  bow 
from  the  ftrife  of  the  mighty.  The  battle  is 
confumed  in  his  prefence :  he  is  a  flanie  of 
death,  Alona  1— — ^Youth  {{  of  the  mournful 
fpeed !,  where  is  the  fon  of  Alcletha  ?  Does  he 
return  with  his  fame  ?  in  the  midft  of  his  echo- 
ing   fhields? Thou  art  dark  and  filentl— 

Calmar  is  then  no  more.  Tell  me  not,  warrior, 
liow  he  fell,  for  I  cannot  hear  of  his  wound. 

Why  doft  thou  look  towards  the  defart,  mo- 
ther of  car-borne  Calmar  ? 

*  Alulne,  exqu'fttely  heautiful. 

I  Aclctha  fpeaks. 

\  From  the  blood  of  the  flain,  from  the  fat  of  the  mighty,  the 
bow  of  Jonathan  returned  not  back,  and  the  Avord  of  Saul  re- 
turned not  empty.     2  Sam.  i.  22. 

Ij  She  addiciles  herlelf  to  Larnir,  Calmar 's  friend,  who  had 
returned  with  the  news  of  his  death. 

Such 


A       P    O    E    M.  Hi 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Carril,  when  Cuchullin 
lay   on  his  fhield  :   the  bards  refted  on  their 

harps,  and  lleep  fell  foftly  around. ^The  fori 

of  Semo  was  awake  alone  j  his  foul  was  fixed  on 

the  war.- The  burning  oaks  began  to  decay  ; 

faint  red  light  is  fpread  around. — A  feeble  voice 
is  heard :  the  ghoft  of  Calmar  came.  He  ftalked 
in  the  beam.  Dark  is  the  wound  in  his  fide. 
His  hair  is  difordered  and  loofe.  Joy  fits  darkly 
on  his  face  :  and  he  feems  to  invite  Cuchullin  to 
his  cave. 

Son  of  the  cloudy  night!  iaid  the  rifing 
chief  of  Erin ;  Why  doft  thou  bend  thy  dark 
eyes  on  me,  ghoft  of  the  car-borne  Calmar  ? 
Wouldefl  thou  frighten  me,  O  Matha's  font 
from  the  battles  of  Cormac  ?  Thy  hand  was  not 
feeble  in  war  ;  neither  was  thy  voice  *  for  peace. 
How  art  thou  changed,  chief  of  Lara !  if  thoii 
now  da^  advife  to  fly  ! But,  Calmar,  I  ne- 
ver fled.  I  never  feared  •f  the  ghofts  of  the  de- 
fart.  Small  is  their  knowledge,  and  weak  their 
hands;  their  dwelling  is  in  the  wind.  But  my 
foul  grows  in  danger,  and  rejoices  in  the  noife 
of  fieel.     Retire  thou  to  thy  cave  ;  thou  art  not 

•  See  Calmar's  fpeech,  in  the  firft  book  of  Fingal. 
f  See  Cachullin's  reply  to  Connal,  conccroirig  Crogal's  ghoft, 
Fing.  b,  2. 

P  a  Calmar's 


212     The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN: 

Calmar's  g^oft  ;  he  dellglited  In  battle,  and  his 
arm  was  like  the  thunder  of  heaven. 

He  ifetired  in  his  blaft  with  joy,  for  he  had 
heard  the  voice  of  his  praife.  The  faint  beam 
of  the  morning  rofe,  and  the  found  of  Caithbat's 
buckler  fpread.  Green  Ullin's  warriors  con- 
vened, like  the  roar  of  many  ftreams.— The 
horn  of  war  is  heard  over  Lego ;  the  mighty 
Torlath  came>  .  .    - 

Why  doft  thou  come  with  thy  thoufands, 
CuchuUin,  faid  the  chief  of  Lego.  I  know  the 
ftrength  of  thy  arm,  and  thy  foul  is  an  unextin- 
guifhed  fire. — Why  fight  we  hot  on  the  plain, 
and  let  our  hofts  behold  our  deeds  ?  Let  them 
bqhold  us  like  roaring  waves,  that  tumble  round 
a  took  :  the  mariners  haften  away,  and  look  on 
their  ftrifc  with  fear. 

Thou  rifcft,  like  the  fun,  on  my  foul,  re- 
plied the  fon  of  Semo.  Thine  arm  is  mighty, 
O  Torlath  !  and  worthy  of  my  wrath.  Retire, 
ye  men  of  UUin,  to  Slimora's  fhady  fide;  behold 

the  chief  of  Erin,  in  the  day  of  his  fame. 

Carril  !  tell  to  mighty  Connal,  ifCachuUin  mufi: 
fill,  tell  him  I  accufed  the  winds  which  roar 
on  Togorma*s  waves. — Never  was  he  abfent  in 
battle,  when  the  ftrlfc  of  my  fame  arofe. — Let 
this  fword  be  before  Cormac,  like  the  beam  of 

hea  vcn ; 


heaven  :  let  his  counfel  found  in  Temora  in  the 
day  of  danger. 

He  rulhed,  in  the  found  of  his  ^rms,  like  tl\^ 
terrible  fpirit  of  Loda  *,  when  he  comes  in  the 
roar  of  a  thoufand  ftorms,  and  fcatters  battles 
from  his  eyes. — He  fits  on  a  cloud  over  Lochr. 
lin's  feas :  his  mighty  hand  is  on  his  fword,  and 
the  winds  lift  his  flaming  locks. — So  terrible 
was  CuchuUin  in  the  day  of  his  fame.— Torlath 
fell  by  his  hand,  and  Lego's  heroes  mourned. --.- 
They  gather  around  the  chief  like  the  clouds  of 
the  defart. — A  thoufand  fwords  rofe  at  once  j  a 
thoufand  arrows  flew ;  but  he  flood  like  a  rock 

in   the   midft  of  a  roaring  fea. They   fell 

around  J  he  ftrode  -  in  blood  :  dark  SliiT;iora 
echoed  wide. — The  fons  of  Ullin  came,  and  the 
battle  fpread  over  Lego. — The  chief  of  Erin 
overcame ;  he  returned  over  the  field  with  his 
fame. 

*  Loda,  in  the  third  book  of  Fingal,  is  mentioned  as  a  place 
of  worfliip  in  Scandinavia:  by  the/pirif  o/Loda,  the  poet  proba- 
bly means  Odin,  the  great  deity  of  the  northern  nations.  He  is 
dcfcribed  here  with  all  his  terrors  about  him,  not  unlike  Mars,  as 
he  is  introduced  in  a  fimile,  in  the  feventh  liiad. 

So  ftalks  in  arms  the  grifly  god  of  Thrace, 
When  Jove  to  punifh  faithlefsmen  prepares, 
And  gives  whole  nations  to  the  waftc  of  wars. 

Pope. 

P  3  But 


214    The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN: 

But  pale  he  returned!  The  joy  of  his  face 
was  dark.  He  rpUed  his  eyes  in  filence. — The 
fword  hung,  unfheathed,  in  his  hand,  and  his 
fpear  bent  at  every  ftep. 

Ca^ril,  faid  the  king  in  fecret,  the  ftrength 
of  Cuchullin  fails.  My  days  are  with  the  years 
that  are  paft:  and  no  morning  of  mine  Ihall 
arife. — They  fliall  feek  me  at  Temora,  but  I 
Ihall  not  be  found.  Cormac  will  weep  in  his 
hall,  and  fay,  "  Where  is  Tura's  chief?'' — 
But  my  name  is  renowned !  my  fame  in  the  fong 

of  bards. -The  youth  will  lay  in  fecret,  O  let 

.  me  die  as  Cuchullin  died  j  renown  cloathed  him 
like  a  robe  j  and  the  light  of  his  fame  is  great. 
Draw  the  arrow  from  my  lide ;  and  lay  Cu- 
chullin beneath  that  oak.  Place  the  iliield  of 
Caithbat  near,  that  they  may  behold  me  amidft 
the  arms  of  my  fathers. — 

And  is  the  ion  of  Sppp  fallen  *,  faid  Carril 
with  a  figh  ?— — Mournful  are  Tura's  walls ; 
and  forrow  dwells  at  Dunfcaich. — Thy  fpoufe 

*  The  Jrifli  hiftorianj  have  placed  Cqch»iUin  ip  the  firft  cen- 
tury.—The  trapflator  has  given  his  reafons  for  fixing  him  in  the 
third,  in  the  diflertatipn  which  is  prefixed  to  this  collediop.  It) 
other  particulars  the  accounts  of  Keating  and  O'FIahe^ ty  coincide 
pretty  nearly  with  Qflian's  poems,  and  tl^e  traditions  of  the 
Highlands  and  Ifles.  They  fay  that  he  was  killed  ip  the 
twenty-feventh  year  of  his  age,  and  they  give  hira  a  great  cha- 
raftfr  for  his  wifdom  and  valour. 


A       POEM,  215 

is  left  alone  in  her  youth,  the  fon  *  of  thy  love 
is  alone. — He  fhall  come  to  Bragcla,  and  afk  lier 
why  ihe  weeps. — He  fhall  lift  his  eyes  to  the 
wall,  and  fee  his  father's  fword. — Whofe  fword 
is  that?  he  will  fay  :  and  the  foul  of  his  mother 
is  fad.  Who  is  that,  like  the  hart  of  the  dcfart, 
in  the  murmur  of  his  courfe  ? — His  eyes  look 

wildly  round  in  fearch  of  his  friend. Connal, 

fon  of  Colgar,  where  haft  thou  been,  when  the 
mighty  fell  ?  Did  the  feas  of  Togorma  roll 
round  thee  ?  Was  the  wind  of  the  fouth  in  thy 
fails?  The  mighty  have  fallen  in  battle,  and  thou 
waft  not  there. — ^Let  none  tell  it  in  Selma,  nor 
in  lylorven's  woody  landj  Fingal  will  be  fad, 
and  the  fons  of  the  defart  mourn. 

By  the  dark  rolling  waves  of  Lego  they  raifed 

the  hero's  tomb. Luath  •f',    at   a   dlftance, 

lies,  the  companion  of  Cuchullin,  ^t  tlie  cliace. 

•  Coplpch,  who  was  afterwards  \'er):  famous  for  his  great  ex- 
ploits in  Ireland.  He  was  fo  remarkable  for  his  dexterity  in 
handling  the  javelin,  that  when  a  good  raarkfipan  is  defcribed, 
it  has  pafled  into  a  proverb,  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  Ht  it  u/t- 
trring  as  the  arm  of  Conloch. 

f  It  was  of  old,  the  cuftom  to  bury  the  favourite  dog  ne.ir 
the  mafter.  This  was  not  peculiar  to  the  ancient  Scots,  for  vvc 
find  itpraftifed  by  many  other  nations  in  their  ages  of  heroifm. 

■ There  is  a  ftone  (hewn  ftill  at  Dunfcaich  in  the  iflc  of  Sky, 

to  which  Cuchullin  commonly  bound  his  dog  Luath.— The  ftone 
goes  by  his  name  to  this  day. 

P  4  Blcft 


2i6    The  DEATH  of  CUCHULLIN: 

Bleft  *  be  thy   foul,    fon  of  Semo  ;   thou 

wert  mighty  in  battle.— Thy  ftrength  was  like 
the  ftrength  of  a  ftream  :  thy  fpeed  like  the 

eagle's  •f  wing. Thy  path  in  the  battle  was 

terrible :  the  fteps  of  death  were  behind  tliy 
fword. Blefl:  be  thy  foul,  fon  of  Semo  ;  car- 
borne  chief  of  Dunfcaich ! 

Thou  haft  not  fallen  by  the  fword  of  the 
mighty,  neither  was  thy  blood  on  the  fpear  of 
the  valiant:— The  arrow  came,  like  the  fting  of 
death  in  a  blaft:  nor  did  the  feeble  hand,  which 
drew  the  bow,  perceive  it.  Peace  to  thy  foul, 
in  thy  cave,  chief  of  the  ifle  of  Mift ! 
-  The  mighty  are  difperfed  at  Temora:  there 
is  none  in  Cormac's iiall.  The  king  mourns  in 
his  youth,  for  he  does  not  behold  thy  coming. 
The  found  of  thy  fhield  is  ceafed  :  his  foes  are 
gathering  round.  Soft  be  thy  reft  in  thy  cave, 
chief  of  Erin's  wars  ! 

Bragela  will  not  hope  thy  return,  or  fee  thy 

fails  in  ocean's  foam. Her  ftcps  are  not  on 

the  Ihiore  :  nor  her  ear  open  to  the  voice  of  thy 

*  This  is  the  fong  of  the  bards  over  Cuchullin's  tomb.  Every 
ftanza  clofes  with  fome  remarkable  title  of  the  hero,  which  was 
always  the  cuftom  in  funeral  elegies. — The  verfe  of  the  fong  is  a 
Jyric  meafure,  and  it  was  of  old  fung  to  the  harp. 

t^They  were  fwifter  than  eagles,  they  were  Ilronger  than 
lions.     2  Sam.  i.  23. 

rov/ers. 


A       P    Q    E    M.  217 

rowers. — She  fits  In  the  hall  of  fhells,  and  fees 
the  arms  of  him  that  is  no  more. — Thine  eyes 
are  full  of  tears,  daughter  of  car-borne  Sorglan  1 

-Bleft  be:  thy  foul  in  death,  O  chief  of  Ihady 

Cromla ! 


D  A  R  -  T  H  U  L  A, 


[    2i8    I 

I 

D  A  R-T  HULA: 

A      POEM*. 


DAUGHTER  of  heaven  f,  fair  art  thou! 
the  filence  of  thy  face  is  pleafant.  Thou 
comeft  fortli  in  lovelinefs  :  the  ftars  attend  thy 
blue  fteps  in  the  eaft.     The  clouds  rejoice  in  thy 

prefence, 

•  It  may  not  be  improper  here,  to  give  the  ftory  which  is  the 
foundation  of  this  poem,  as  it  is  handed  down  by  tradition. — r 
yfnoth,  lord  of  Etha,  which  is  probably  that  part  of  Argyle- 
ihire  which  is  near  Loch  Eta,  an  arm  of  the  Tea  in  Lorn,  had 
three  fons,  Nathos,  Althos,  and  Ardan  by  Slifiama,  thedaught 
ter  of  Serao  and  filler  to  the  celebrated  Cuchullm.  The  three 
brothers,  when  very  young,  were  fent  over  to  Ireland,  by  their 
father,  to  learn  the  ufe  of  arms,  under  their  uncle  CuchuUin, 
who  made  a  great  figure  in  that  kingdom.  They  were  juft 
landed  in  Ulfter  when  the  news  of  Cuchullin's  death  arrived. 
Nathos,  though  very  young,  took  the  command  of  Cuchullin's 
army,  made  head  againft  Cairbar  the  ufurper,  and  defeated  him 
in  feveral  battles.  Cairbar  at  laft  having  found  means  to  mur- 
der Cormac  the  lawful  king,  the  army  of  Nathos  fhifted  fides, 
and  he  himfelf  was  obliged  to  return  into  Ulfter,  in  order  to  pafs 
over  into  Scotland. 

Dar-thula,  the  daughter  of  Colla,  with  whom  Cairbar  was  J^ 
love,  refided,  at  that  time,  in  Selama  a  caftle  in  Ulfter :  Ihe  faw, 
fell  in  love,  and  fled  with  Nathos  ;  but  a  ftorm  rifxng  at  fea,  they 
were  unfortunately  driven  back  on  that  part  of  the  coaft  of  Ulfter, 
where  Cairbar  was  encamped  with  his  army,  waiting  for  Fingal, 

who 


A       P    O    E    M.  ^19 

prefence,  O  moon,  and  brighten  their  dark- 
brown  fides.  Who  is  like  thee  in  heaven, 
daughter  of  the  night  ?  The  ftars  are  alhamcd  in 
thy  prefence,  and  turn  afide  their  green,  fpark- 
ling  eyes. — Whither  doft  thou  retire  from  thy 
courfe,  when  the  darknefs  *  of  thy  countenance 
grows  ?  Haft  thou  thy  hall  like  Offian?  Dwelleft 
thou  in  the  fhadow  of  grief?  Have  thy  fifters 
fallen  from  heaven  ?  Are  they  who  rejoiced  with 
thee,  at  night,  no  more? — Yes! — they  have 
fallen,  fair  light !  and  thoii  doft  often  retire  to 
mourn.-^ — But  thou  thyfelf  fhalt  fail,  one  nighty 
and  leave  thy  blue  path  in  heaven.  The  ftars 
will  then  lift  their  green  heads  :  they  who  were 
afhamed  in  thy  prefence,  will  rejoice. 

who  meditated  an  expedition  Into  Ireland,  to  re-eftabllih  the 
Scotch  race  of  kings  on  the  throne  of  that  kingdom.  J'he  three 
brothers,  after  having  defended  themfelves,  for  fome  time,  with 
great  bravery,  were  overpowered  and  (lain,  and  the  unfortunate 
Par-thula  killed  herfelf  upon  the  body  of  her  beloved  Nathos. 

Offian  opens  the  poem,  on  the  night  preceding  the  death  of 
the  fons  of  Ufnoth,  and  brings  in,  by  way  of  epifode,  what 
pafled  before.  He  relates  the  death  of  Dar-thula  differently 
from  the  comnion  tradition  ;  his  account  is  the  moft  probable, 
as  fuicide  feems  to  have  been  unknown  in  thofe  early  times  :  for 
no  traces  of  it  are  found  in  the  old  poetry. 

•f-  The  addrefs  to  the  moon  is  very  beautiful  in  the  original. 
It  is  in  a  lyric  meafure,  and  appears  to  have  been  fung  to  the 
harp. 

•  The  poet  means  the  moon  in  her  wane. 

Thou 


Zia         DAR-THULA: 

Thou  art  now  clothed  with  thy  brightnefs  : 
look  from  thy  gates  in  the  fky.  Burft  the 
cloud,  O  wind,  that  the  daugliter  of  night  may 
look  forth,  that  the  fhaggy  mountains  may 
brighten,  and  the  ocean  roll  its  blue  w^ves  in 
light. 

NATHOs*ison  the  deep,  and  Althos  that 
beam  of  youth,  Ardan  is  near  his  brothers ; 
they  move  in  the  gloom  of  their  courfe.  The 
fons  of  Ufnoth  move  in  darknefs,  from  the  wrath 
of  car-borne  Cairbar  'f'. 

Who  is  that  dim,  by  their  fide?  the  night  has 
covered  her  beauty.  Her  hair  fighs  on  ocean's, 
wind  ;  her  robe  ftreams  in  dufky  wreaths.  She 
is  like  the  fair  fpirit  of  heaven,  in  the  midft  of 
his  fliadowy  mift.  Who  is  it  but  Dar-thula  J, 
the  firft  of  Erin's  maids?  She  has  fled  from  the 
love  of  Cairbar,  with  the  car-borne  Nathos.  But 
the  winds  deceive  thee,  O  Dar-thula  ;  and  deny 
the  woody  Etha  to  thy  fails.     Thefe  are  not  thy 

*  Natlios  fignifies  youihfuly  Ailthos,  exquijite  heautj,  Ardan, 
fride. 

•f  Cairbar,  who  murdered  Cormac  king  of  Ireland,  and 
ufurped  the  throne.  He  was  afterwards  killed  by  Ofcar  the  Ton 
of  Oflian  in  a  fingle  combat.  The  poet,  upon  other  occafions, 
gives  him  the  epithet  of  red-haired. 

X  Dar-thula,  or  Dart-'huile,  a  nvoman  nxith  fine  eyes.  She  was 
the  mod  famous  beauty  of  antiquity.  To  this  day,  when  a  wo- 
man is  praifed  for  her  beauty,  the  common  phrafe  is,  \^\2Xjhe  is 
as  lovely  as  Dar-thula. 

mountains. 


A       P    O    E    M.  i2t 

mountains,  Nathos,  nor  is  that  the  roar  of  thy 
climbing  waves.  The  halls  of  Cairbar  are  near^ 
and  the  towers  of  the  foe  lift  their  heads.  UUin 
ftretches  its  green  head  into  the  fea  ;  and  Tura'i 
bay  receives  the  ihip.  Where  have  ye  been,  ye 
fouthern  winds !  when  the  fons  of  my  love  wer^ 
deceived  ?  But  ye  have  been  fporting  on  plains^ 
and  purfuing  the  thiftle's  beard.  O  that  ye  had 
been  ruftling  in  the  fails  of  Nathos,  till  the  hills 
of  Etha  rofe  !  till  tliey  rofe  in  their  clouds,  ancJ 
faw  their  coming  'chief !  I,orig  'haft  thou  beeil 
abfent,  Nathos!  and  the  day  of  thy  return  is 
paft  *.  "' 

But  the  land  of  ftrangers  faw  thee,^lovdy  : 
Ihou  waft  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  Dar-thula.  '  Thy 
face  was  like  the  light  of  the  morning,  thy  hair 
like  the  raven's  wing.  Thy  foul  was  generous 
and  mild,  like  the  hour  of  the  fetting  fun.  Thy 
words  were 'the  gale  of  tlie  reeds,  or  the  gliding 
ftream  of  Lora. 

But  when  the  rage  of  battle  rofe,  thou  wail 
like  a  fea  In  a  ftorm ;  the  clang  of  arms  was  ter- 
rible :  the  hoft  vanifhed  at  the  found  of  thy 
courfe. It  was  then  Dar-thula  beheld  the^, 

*  That  is,  the  day  appointed  by  dediny.  We  find  nd'ddiiy 
in  Oflian's  poetry,  if  fate  is  not  one ;  of  that  he  is  rety  full  in 
feme  of  his  poems  in  the  tranflator's  hands. 

from 


12Z         D    A    R^T    H    U    L  A: 

from  the  top  of  her  mofly  tower :  from  the  towc* 
of  Selama  *,  where  her  fathers  dwelt. 

Lovely  art  thou,  Oftranger!  ihe  faid,  for 
her  trembling  foul  arofe.  Fair  art  thou  in  thy 
battles,  friend  of  the  fallen  Cormac !  i-  Why 
doft  thou  rufh  on,  in  thy  valour,  youth  of  the 
ruddy  look  ?  Few  are  thy  hands,  in  battle, 
againft  the  car-borne  Cairbar ! — O  that  I  might 
be  freed  of  his  love !  ^  that  I  might  rejoice  in 

the  prefence  of  Nathos ! -Bleft  are  the  rocks 

of  Etha ;  they  will  behold  his  fteps  at  the  chace ! 
they  will  fee  his  white  bofom,  when  the  winds 
lift  his  raven  hair ! 

Such  were  thy  words,  Dar-thula,  in  Selama's 
mdlTy  towers.  But,  now,  the  night  is  round 
thee :  and  the  winds  have  deceived  thy  fails. 
The  winds  have  deceived  thy  fails,  Dar-thula : 
their  bluftering  found  is  high.  Ceafe  a  little 
while,  O  north  wind,  and  let  me  hear  the  voice 

•  The  poet  does  not  mean  that  Selama  which  is  mentioned  as 
the  feat  of  Tbfcar  in  Ulfter,  in  the  poem  of  Conlath  atid  Cu- 
thona.  The  word  in  the  original  fignifies  either  beautiful  to  ie- 
hold,  or  a  place  luith  a  plea/ant  or  ixide  profpeQ^  In  thofe  times, 
they  built  their  houfes  upon  eminences,  to  command  a  view  of 
the  country,  and  to  preveiit  their  being  furprized :  many  of 
them,  on  that  account,  were  called  Selama.  The  famous  Selma 
of  Fingal  is  derived  from  the  (ame  root. 

t  Cormac  the  young  king  of  Ireland,  who  was  murdered  by 
Cairbar. 

X  That  is,  of  the  love  of  Cairbar, 

7  €^ 


A       P    O    E    M.  225 

of  the  lovely.  Thy  voice  is  lovely,  Dar-thula, 
between  the  ruftling  blafts. 

Are  thefe  the  rocks  of  Nathos,  and  the  roar 
of  his  mountain-ftreams  ?  Comes  that  beam  of 
light  from  Ufnoth's  nightly  hall  ?  The  mLft  rolls 
around,  and  the  beam  is  feeble :  but  the  light 
of  Dar-thula's  foul  is  the  car-borne  chief  of 
Etha !  Son  of  the  generous  Ufnoth,  why  that 
broken  figh  ?  Are  we  not  in  the  land  of  ftran- 
gers,  chief  of  echoing  Etha  ? 

These  are  not  the  rocks  of  Nathos,  he  re- 
plied, nor  the  roar  of  his  ftreams.  No  light 
comes  from  Etha's  halls,  for  they  are  diftant 
far.  "We  are  in  the  land  of  Grangers,  in  the 
land  of  car-borne  Cairbar.  The  winds  have  de- 
ceived us,  Dar-thula.  UUIn  lifts  here  her  green 
hills. — Go  towards  the  north,  Althos;  be  thy 
fteps,  Ardan,  along  the  coaft  ;  that  the  foe  may 
not  come  in  darknefs,  and  our  hopes  of  Etha 
fail. 

i  WILL  go  towards  that  mofly  tower,  and  fee 
who  dwells  about  the  beam.— -Reft,  Dar-thula, 
on  the  Ihore !  reft  in  peace,  thou  beam  of  light  I 
the  fword  of  Nathos  is  around  thee,  like  the 
lightning  of  heaven. 

He  went.  She  fat  alone,  and  heard  the  roll- 
ing of  the  wave.  The  big  tear  is  in  her  eye; 
and  ihe  looks  for  the  car-borne  Nathos.— Her 

foul 


224         DAR-THULA: 

foul  trembles  at  the  blaft.     And  Ihe  turns  her' 

ear  towards  the  tread  of  his  feet. The  tread 

of  his  feet  is  not  heard.  Where  art  thou,  fon  of 
my  love  r  The  roar  of,  the  blaft  is  around  me. 

Dark  is  the  cloudy  night. ^But  Nathos  does 

not  return.  What  detains  thee,  chief  of  Etha  ? 
— Have  the  foes  met  the  hero  in  the  ftrife  of  the 
night  ? — 

He  returned,  but  his  face  was  dark :  he  had 
feen  his  departed  friend. — It  was  the  wall  of 
Tura,  and  the  ghoft  of  CuchulUn  ftalked  there.* 
The  fighing  of  his  breaft  was  frequent;  and  the 
decayed  flame  of  his  eyes  terrible.  His  fpear 
was  a  column  of  mift  :  the  ftars  looked  dim 
through  his  form.  His  voice  was  like  hollow 
wind  in  a  cave:  and  he  told  the  tale  of  grief. 
The  foul  of  Nathos  was  fad,  like  the  fun  *  in 
the  day  of  mift,  when  his  face  is  watry  and 
dim. 

Why  art  thou  fad,  O  Nathos,  faid  the" lovely 
daughter  of  Colla  ?  Thou  art  a  pillar  of  light  to 
Dar-thula  :    the  joy   of  her  eyes  is   in  Etha's 

•  Conditus  in  nuhem,  meMoqus  refugerit  orhe  j 

ViRG, 

—Thro'  mifts  he  (hoots  his  fallen  beams, 
Frugal  of  light,  in  loofe  and  ftraggling  ftreams. 

Dryden, 

chief. 


A       P    O    E    M.  225 

chief.  Where  is  my  friend  *,  but  Nathos  ?  My 
father  refts  in  the  tomb.  Silence  dwells  on  Se- 
lama  :  fadnefs  fpreads  on  the  blue  ftreams  of  my 
land.  My  friends  have  fallen,  with  Cormac. 
The  mighty  were  flain  in  the  battle  of  UUin. 

Evening  darkened  on  the  plain.  The  blue 
ftreams  failed  before  mine  eyes.  The  unfrequent 
blaft  came  ruftling  in  the  tops  of  Sclama's 
groves.  My  feat  was  beneath  a  tree  on  the 
walls  of  my  fathers.  Truthil  paft  before  my 
foul ;  the  brother  of  my  love ;  he  that  was  ab- 
fent  "f  in  battle  againft  the  car-borne  Cairbar. 

Bending  on  his  fpear,  the  gray-haired  Colla 
came  :  his  downcaft  face  is  dark,  and  forrow 
dwells  in  his  foul.  His  fword  is  on  the  fide  of 
the  hero  :  the  helmet  of  his  fathers  on  his  head, 
— The  battle  grows  in  his  breaft.  He  ilrives  to 
hide  the  tear. 

Dar-thula,  he  fighing  faid,  thou  art  the 
laft  of  Colla's  race.  Truthil  is  fallen  in  battle. 
The  king  :J:  of  Selama  is  no  more. Cairbar 


Iv  yxg  tr    »\}\ri 


•-"  adi  ^«(   ffi  ISXTng  KO^i  '^aTtmf.  (A,r,Tr,^. 

KoM.  vl.  411. 

f  The  family  of  Colla  preferved  their  loyalty  to  Cormac  lonj 
after  the  death  of  Cuchullin. 

l  It  is  very  common,  in  Offan's  poetry,  to  give  the  title  of 
King  to  every  chief  tliat  was  remarkable  for  his  valour. 

Q^  comes. 


226         D  A   R-T    ti   tr    L  A: 

comes,  with  Ms  thoufandsy  towards  Selama's 
^alls. — Colla  will  meet  his  pride,  and  revenge 
his  fon.  But  where  fhall  I  find  thy  fafety,  Dar- 
thula  with  the  dark-brown  hair !  thou  art  lovely 
as  the  fun-beam  of  heaven,  and  thy  friends  ar& 
low ! 

And  IS  the  fon  of  battle  fallen?  I  faid  with  3 
burfting  figh.  Ceafed  the  generous  foul  of  Tru- 
thil  to  lighten  through  the  field  ?— My  fafety, 
Colla,  is  in  that  bow  j  I  have  learned  to  pierce 
the  deer.  Is  not  Cairbar  like  the  hart  of  the  de- 
fart,  father  of  fallen  Truthil  ? 

The  face  of  age  brightened  with  joy ;  and  the 
Crouded  tears  of  his  eyes  poured  down.  The 
lips  of  Colla  trembled.  His  gray  beard  whiflled 
in  the  blaft.  Thou  art  the  fifler  of  TruChil,  he 
faid,  and  thoii  burneft  in  (he  fire  of  his  foul. 
Take,  Dar-thula,  take  that  fpear,  that  brazen 
Ihield,    that  burnifhed  helmet :    they  are   the 

fpoils  of  a  warrior :  a  fon  *  of  early  youth. ' 

When  the  light  rifes  on  Selama,  we  go  to  meet 
the  car-borne  Cairbar. — — But  keep  thou  near 
the  arm  of  Colla ;  beneath  the  Ihadow  of  my 
lliield.     Thy  father,  Dar-thula,  could  onde'de- 

*  The  pcet,  to  make  the  (lory  of  Dar-thula's  arming  herfelf 
for  battle,  rtore  probable,  makes  her  armour  to  he  that  of  a  very 
.  young  man,  otherwife  it  would  fhock  all  belief,  that  fhe,  who 
was  very  young,  fhould  be  able  to  carry  it. 

fend 


A      P    O    E    M»  ^27 

fend  thee  J  but  age  is  trembling  on  his  hand. — — 
The  ftrcngth  of  his  arm  has  failed,  and  his  foul 
is  darkened  with  grief.  ' 

We  paired  the  night  in  forrow.  The  light  of 
morning  rofe.  I  fhone  in  the  arms  of  battle. 
The  gray-haired  hero  moved  before.  The  fons 
of  Selama  convened  around  the  founding  Ihield 
of  Colla.  But  few  were  they  in  the  plain,  and 
their  locks  were  gray.  The  youths  had  fallen 
with  Truthil,  in  the  battle  of  car-borne  Cormac. 

Companions  of  my  youth!  faid  Colla,  it 
Was  not  thus  you  have  feen  me  in  arms.  It  was 
not  thus  I  ft  rode  to  battle,  when  the  great  Con- 
fadan  fell.  But  ye  are  laden  with  grief.  The 
darknefs  of  age  comes  like  the  mift  of  the  de- 
fart.  My  fhield  is  worn  with  years  j  my  fword 
is  fixed  *  in  its  place.  I  faid  to  my  foul,  thy 
evening  fhall  be  calm,  and  thy  departure  like  a 
fading  light.  But  the  ftorm  has  returned  ;  \ 
bend  like  an  aged  oak.     My  boughs  are  fallen 

on  Selama,   and  I  tremble  in  my  place. • 

Where  art  thou,  with  thy  fallen  heroes,  O  my 
car-borne  Truthil !  Thou  anfwereft  not  from  thy 
rulhing  blaft  j  and  the  foul  of  thy  father  is  fad. 

•  It  was  the  cuftom  of  thofe  times,  that  evety  warrior  at  a  cer- 
tain age,  or  when  he  became  unfit  for  the  field,  fixed  his  arms, 
in  the  great  hall,  where  the  tribe  feafted,  upon  joyful  occafions. 
He  was  afterwards  never  to  appear  in  battle ;  and  this  ftage  of 
liJc  was  called  the  time  cf fixing  of  the  arm, 

Cl2  Birt 


»28.         D    A   R-T    H    U    L   A: 

liut  I  will  be  fad  no  more,  Cairbar  or  CoUa  muft 
fall.  I  feel  the  returning  ftrength  of  my  arm, 
'My  heart  leaps  at  the  found  of  battle.- 

The  hero  drew  his  fword.  The  gleaming 
blades  of  his  people  rofe.  They  moved  along. 
the  plain.  Their  gray  hair  ftreamed  in  the 
wind. — Cairbar  fat,  at  the  feaft,  in  the  filent 
plain  of  Lona  *.  He  faw  the  coming  of  the  he- 
roes, and  he  called  his  chiefs  to  battle. 

Why  t  fhould  I  tell  to  Nathos,  how  the 
ftrife  of  battle  grew  !  I  have  feen  thee,  in  the 
n^idft  of  thoufands,  like  the  beam  of  heaven's 
fire ;  it  is  beautiful,   but   terrible ;'  the  people 

fall  in  its  red  courfe. The  fpear   of  Colla 

Hew,  for  he  remembered  the  battles  of  his  youth. 
An  arrow  came  with  its  found,  and  pierced  the 
hero's  fide.  He  fell  on  his  echoing  fhield.  My 
foul  fl[arted  with  fear ;  I  ftretched  my  buckler 
over   him ;    but   my   heaving  breafl  was  fccn. 

*  Lona,  a  marjhy  pl^iti.  It  was  the  cuilom,  in  the  days  of 
Ofllan,  to  feaft  after  a  vii^ory.  Cairbar  had  jull  provided  an  en- 
tertainment for  his  ai'piy,  upon  the  defeat  of  Truthil  the  fon  of 
Colla,  and  the  refl;  of  the  party  of  Cormac,  when  Colla  and  his 
aged  warriors  arrived  to  give  him  battle. 

f  The  poet  avoids  the  defcription  of  the  battle  of  Lona,  as  it 
would  be  improper  in  the  mouth  of  a  woman,  and  could  have 
nothing  new,  after  the  numerous  defcriptions,  of  that  kind,  in 
his  other  poems.  He,  at  the  fame  time,  gives  an  opportunity 
to  Dar-thula  to  pafs  a  fine, compliment  on  her  lover. 

r,  Cairbar 


A       P    O    E    M.    "^^  229 

Calrbar  came,  witli  his  fpear,  and  he  beheld 
Sekima's  maid :  joy  rofe  on  his  dark-brown  face  j 
he  flayed  the  lifted  fteel.  He  ralfed  the  tomb  of 
Colla  J  and  brought  me  weeping  to  Selama.  He 
fpoke  the  words  of  love,  but  my  foul  was  fad. 
I  faw  the  fhields  of  ray  fathers,  and  the  fword  of 
car-borne  Truthil.  I  faw  the  arms  of  the  dead, 
and  the  tear  was  on  my  cheek. 

Then  thou  didft  come,  O  Nathos :  and 
gloomy  Calrbar  fled.  He  fled  like  the  ghoft  of 
the  defart  before  the  morning's  beam.  His 
hofts  were/ not  near:  and  feeble  Was  his  arm 
agalnft  thy  fleel. 

Why  *  art  thou  fad,  .O  Nathos?  fald  th# 
lovely  maid  of  Colla.         .'  v 

I  HAVE  met,  replied  the  hero,  the  battle  in 
my  youth.  My  arm  could  not  lift  the  fpear, 
when  firft  the  danger  rofe  ^  but  my  foul  brighten- 
ed before  the  war,  as  the  green  narrow  vale, 
when  the  fun  pours  his  flreamy  beams,  before 
he  hides  his  head  in  a  ftorm.  My  foul  briglit- 
encd  in  danger  before  1  faw  Selama's  fair;  before 
I  faw  thee,  like  a  ftar,  that  fhines  on  the  hill,  at 
night;  the  cloud  flowly  comes,  and  threatens 
the  lovely  light. 

•  It  is  ufual  with  Offian,  to  repeat,  at  the  end  of  the  epifodes, 
the  fentence  which  introduced  them.  It  brings  back  the  mind 
of  the  reader  to  the  main  flory  of  the  poena. 

0^3  We 


53^        D*^  A    R'T    H    U    L   A: 

'  We  are  in  the  land  of  the  foe,  and  the  winds 
have  deceived  us,  Dar-thula!  the  ftrength  of 
our  friends  is  not  near,  nor  the  mountains  of 
Etha,  Where  Ihall  I  find  thy  peace,  daughter 
of  mighty  Colla !  The  brothers  of  Nathos  are 
brave :  and  his  own  fword  has  Ihone  in  war* 
But  what  are  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  to  the  hoft  of 
car-borne  Cairbar!  O  that  the  winds  had 
brought  thy  fails,  Ofcar  *  king  of  men !  thou 
^idft  promife  to  come  to  the  battles  of  fallen 
Cormao*  Then  would  my  hand  be  flrong  as 
the  flajning  ^rm  of  death.  Cairbar  would  trem- 
ble in  his  halls,  and  peace  dwell  round  the 
4ovely  Dar-thula.  But  why  doft  thou  fall,  my 
foul  ?  The  fons  of  Ufnoth  may  prevail. 

And  they  will  prevail,  O  Nathos,  faid  the 
rifing  foul  of  the  maid  :  never  fhall  Dar-thula 
behold  the  hajls  of  gloomy  Cairbar,  Give  me 
thofe  arms  of  brafs,  that  glitter  to  that  paffing 
meteor ;  I  fee  thep  in  the  dark-bofomed  fhip. 
Dar-thula  will  enter  the  battle  of  fteel.— Ghoft 
-  of  the  noble  Colla !  do  I  behold  thee  on  that 
cloud  ?  Who  is  that  dim  befide  thee  ?  It  is  the 
cat-borne  Truthil.     Shall  I  behold  the  halls  of 

*  Ofcar,  the  fon  of  Gflian,  had  long  refolved  on  the  expedi- 
tion, into  Ireland,  againft  Cairbar,  who  had  aiTafllnated  his 
friend  Catho],  the  fon  of  Moran,  an  Irifhman  of  noble  extraft  ion, 
and  in  thp  interell  cf  the  family  gf  Corinac. 


him  that  flew  Selama's  chief !  No  :  I  will  not 
behold  them,  fpirits  of  my  love  ! 

Joy  rofe  in  the  ;£ace  of  Nathos,  when  he  heard 
the  white  bofomed  maid.  Daughter  of  Selama ! 
thou  Ihincft  on  my  foul.  Come,  with  thy 
thoufands,  Cairbar!  the  ftrength  of  Nathos  iS 
returned.  And  thou,  O  aged  Ufnoth,  Ihalt  not 
hear  that  thy  fon  has  fled.  I  remember  thy 
words  on  Etha ;  when  my  lails  b^gun  to  rife  ; 
when  I  fpread  them  towards  UUin,  towards  the 
mofly  walls  of  Tura.  Thou  goeft,  he  faid,  O 
Nathos,  to  the  king  of  fhields  j  to  CuchuUin 
chief  of  men  who  ijever  fled  from  danger.  Let 
not  thine  arm  be  feeble  :  neither  be  thy  thoughts 
of  flight  J  left  the  fon  of  Semo  fay  that  Etha's 
race  are  weak.     His  words  may  come  to  Ufnoth, 

and  fadden  his  foul  in  the  hall. The  tear  was 

on  his  cheek.     He  gave  this  fhining  fword. 

I  CAME  to  Tura's  bay  :  but  the  halls  of  Tura 
were  filent.  I  looked  around,  and  there  was 
none  to  tell  of  the  chief  of  Dunfcaich.  I  went 
to  the  hall  of  his  Ihiells,  where  the  arms  of  his 
fathers  hung.  But  the  arms  were  gone,  and 
aged  Lamhor  *  fat  in  tears. 

Whence  are  the  arms  of  fteel,  faid  the  rifing 
Lamhor  ?  The  light  of  the  fpear  has  long  been 

•  Lanvh-mhor,  migbtj  band. 

(^4  abfent 


232         D    A    R  -T    H    U    L    A: 

abfent  from  Tura's  dufky  walls. — Come  ye  from 
the  rolling  fea  ?  Or  from  the  mournful  halls  of 
Temora  *. 

We  come  from  the  fea,  I  faid,  from  Ufnoth*s 
rifing  towers.  We  are  the  fons  of  SHs-sama  ■f, 
the  daughter  of  car-borne  Semo.  Where  is 
Tura's  chief,  fon  of  the  filent  hall?  But  why 
Ibould  Nat^os  afk  ?  for  I  behold  thy  tears. 
How  did  the  mighty  fall,  fon  of  the  lonely 
Tura  ? 

He  fell  not,  Lamhor  replied,  like  the  filent 
flar  of  night,  when  it  llioots  through  darknefs 
and  Is  no  more.  But  he  was  like  a  meteor  that 
falls  in  a  diftant  land ;  death  attends  its  red 
courfe,  and  itfelf  is  the  fign  of  wars. — > — ^Mourn- 
ful  are  the  banks  of  Lego,  and  the  roar  of 
ftreamy  Lara!  There  the  hero  fell,  fon-  of  the 
noble  Ufnoth., 

And  the  hero  fell  in  the  midft  of  flaughter,  I 
faid  with  a  burfting  figh.  His  hand  was  ftrong 
in  battle;  and  death  was  behind  his  fword. — We 
came  to  Lego's  mournful  banks.     We  found  his 

•  Temora  was  the  royal  palace  of  the  fupreme  kings  of  Ire- 
land. It  is  here  called  mournful,  on  account  of  the  death  of 
Cormac,  who  was  murdered  there  by  Cairbar  who  ufurped  his 
throne. 

•f-  Slis-feamha,  _/o/?  l>c_/.m.  She  w.is  the  wife  ofUfnoth  and 
daughter  of  Semo  the  chief  of  the  //?e  ofmiji. 

rifmg 


A       P    O    E    M.  233 

riiing  tomb.  His  companions  in  battle  are 
there ;  his  bards  of  many  fongs.  Three  days 
we  mourned  over  the  hera:  on  the  fourth,  I 
flruck  the  fhield  of  Caithbat.  The  heroes  ga- 
thered around  with  joy,  and  Ihook  their  bearny 
fpears.  ^ 

CoRLATH  was  near  with  his  hoft,  the  friend 
of  car-borne  Cairbar.  We  came  like  a  ftream 
by  night,  and,  his  heroes  fell.  When  the  people 
of  the  valley  rofe,  they  law  their  blood  with 
morning's  light.  But  we  rolled  away,  like 
wreaths  of  mift,  to  Cormac's  echoing  hall.  Our 
fwords  rofe  to  defend  the  king.  But  Temora's 
halls  were  empty.  Cormac  had  fallen  in  his 
youth.     The  king  of  Erin  was  no  more. 

Sadne-ss  feized  the  fons  of  UUin,  they  flowly, 
gloomily  retired  :  like  clouds  that,  long  having 
threatened  jain,  retire  behind  the  hilis.  The 
fons  of  Ufnoth  moved,  in  their  grief,  towards 
Tura's  founding  bay.  We  paiTed  by  Selama, 
and  Cairbar  retired  like  Lano's  mift,  when  it  is 
driven  by  the  winds  of  the  defart. 

It  was  then  I  beheld  thee,  O  maid,  like  the 
light  of  Etha's  fun.  Lovely  is  that  beam,  I 
faid,  and  the  crowded  figh  of  my  bofom  rofe. 
Thou  cameft  In  thy  beauty,  Dar-thula,  to  Etha's 

mournful  chief. But  the  winds  have  deceived 

vis,  daughter  of  Colla,  and  the  foe  is  near. 

Yes! 


Jj4        D   A  R-T   H  U   L  A: 

y£s!-^-the  foe  is  near,  fald  the  ruftllng* 
(brength  of  Althos*.  I  heard  their  clanging 
arms  on  the  coaft,  and  faw  the  dark  wreaths  of 
Erin's  ftandard.  Diftinft  is  the  voice  of  Cair- 
bar  "f-,  and  loud  as  Cromla's  falling  ftream.  He 
Jiad  feen  the  dark  fhip  on  the  fea,  before  the 
duiky  night  came  down.  His  people  watch  on 
Lena's  X  plain,  and  lift  ten  thoufand  fwords. 

And  let  them  lift  ten  thoufand  fwords,  faid 
Nathos  with  a  fmile.  The  fons  of  car-borne 
Ufnoth  will  never  tremble  in  danger.  Why  doft 
thou  roll  with  all  thy  foam,  thou  roaring  fea  of 
Ullin  ?  Why  do  ye  ruftle,  on  your  dark  wings, 
ye  whirling  tempefts  of  the  fky  ? — Do  ye  think, 
ye  ftorms,  that  ye  keep  Nathos  on  the  coaft  ? 
No:    his  foul  detains   him,    children  of  the 

night! Althos!    bring  my  father's  arms: 

thou  feeft  them  beaming  to  the  ftars.    Bring  the 

•  Althos  had  jaft  returned  from  viewing  the  coaft  of  Lena, 
whither  he  had  been  fent  by  Nathos,  the  ^beginning  of  the 
night, 

-|-  Cairbar  had  gathered  an  army,  to  the  coaft  of  UJfter,  in  order 
to  oppofe  Fingal,  who  prepared  for  an  expedition  into  Ireland  to 
ye-eftablifh  the  houfe  of  Cormac  on  the  throne,  which  Cairbar 
had  ufurped.  Between  the  wings  of  Cairbar's  army  was  the  bay 
of  Tura,  into  which  the  fhip  of  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  was  driven : 
fo  that  there  was  po  poffibility  of  thgir  efcaping. 

J  The  fcene  of  theprefent  poem  is  nearly  the  fame  with  that  of 
the  epic  poem  in  this  colleftioij.  The  heath  of  Lena  and  Tura 
are  often  mentioned 

fpear 


A      FOB    M.  23^ 

Ipear  of  Semo  *,  it  fi;ands  in  the  dark-bofomed 
ihip. 

He  brought  the  arms.  /  Nathos  clothed  his 
limbs  in  all  their  ihinmg;«^eel.  The  ftride  of 
the  chief  is  lovely  :  the  joy  of  his  eyes  terrible- 
He  looks  towards  the  coming  of  Cairbar,  The 
wind  is  ruftling  in  his  hair.  Dar-thula  is  filent 
at  his  lide  ;  her  look  is  fixed  on  the  chief.  She 
drives  to  hide  the  rifing  figh,  and  two  tears 
fwell  in  her  eyes. 

Althos  !  faid  the  chief  of  Etha,  I  fee  a  cave 
in  that  rock.  Place  par-thula  there :  and  letf 
thy  arm  be  ftropg.  Ardan  !  we  meet  the  foe, 
and  call  to  battle  gloomy  Cairbar.  O  that  he 
came  in  his  founding  fteel,  to  meet  the  fon  of 

Ufnoth  ! Dar-thula !    if  thou  Ihalt  efcapc, 

look  not  on  tlie  falling  Nathos.     Lift  thy  fails, 
O  Althos,  towards  the  echoing  groves  of  Etha. 

Tell  to  the  chief -f,  that  his  fon  fell  with 
fame  j  that  my  fword  did  not  fhun  the  battle. 
Tell  him  I  fell  in  the  midft  of  thoufands,  and 
let  the  joy  of  his  grief  be  great.  Daughter  of 
CoUa  !  call  the  n^aids  to  Etha's  echoing  hall, 

•  Semo  was  grandfather  to  Nathos  by  the  mother's  fide.  The 
fpear  mentioned  here  was  given  to  Ufnoth  on  his  marriage,  it 
being  the  cuftom  then  for  the  father  of  the  lady  to  give  his  arms 
to  his  fon-in-law.  1  he  ceremony  ufed  upon  thefe  occafions  is 
mentioned  in  other  poems. 

•\  Ufnoth,  I 

Ut 


^36        D   A  R-.T    H   U    L  A; 

Let  their  fongs  arife  from  Natho5,  when  fhadowjt 
autumn  returns. — O  that  the  voice  of  Cona  * 
might  be  heard  in  n\y  praife  !  then  would  my 
fpirit  rejoice  in  thejfnidft  of  my  mountain  winds. 

And  my  voice  fhall  praife  thee,  NatTios  chief 
of  the  woody  Etha !  The  voice  of  Offian  fhall 
rife  in  thy  praife,  fon  of  tke  generous  Ufriolh  I 
Why  was  I  not  on  Lena,  when,  the  battle  rofe  ? 
Then  would  the  fword  of  Offian  have  defended 
thee,  or  himfelf  have  fallen  low.  . 

We  fat,  that  night,  in  Selma  round  the 
jftrength  of  the  fhell.  The  wind  was  abroad,  in 
the  oaks  j  the  fpirit  of  the  mountain  -f  fhrieked. 
The  blaft'  came  ruftling  through  the  hall,  and 
gently  touched  ,  my  harp.  The  found  was 
mournful  and  low,  like  the  fong  of  the  tomb. 
Fingal  heard  it  firft,  and  the  crowded  fighs  of 

his  bofom  rofe. Some  of  my  heroes  are  low, 

faid  the  gray-haired  king  of  Morven.  I  hear 
the  found  of  death  on  the  harp  of  my  fon. 
Offian,  touch  the  founding  firing ;  bid  the  for- 
row  rife;  that  their  fpirits  may  fly  with  joy  to 
Morven's  woody  hills. 

*  Offian,  the  fon  of  Fingal,  is,  often,  poetically  called  the 
voice  of  Cona, 

J  By  the  fpirit  of  the  mountain  is  meant  that  deep  and  me- 
lancholy found  which  precedes  a  florm  j  well  known  to  thofe 
who  live  in  a  high  country. 

I  TOUCHED 


A       P    O    E    M.  237 

I  TOUCHED  the  harp  before  the  king,  the 
found  was  mournful  and  low.  Bend  forward 
from  your  clouds,  I  faid,  ghofts  of  my  fathers! 
bend  i  lay  by  the  red  terror  of  your  courfe,  and 
receive  the  falling  chief;  whether  he  comes  from 
a  diftant  land,  or  rifes  from  the  rolling  fea.  Let 
his  robe  of  mift  be  near ;  his  fpear  that  is  formed 
of  a  cloud.  Place  an  half-extinguiflied  meteor 
by  his  fide,  in  the  form  of  the  hero's  fword. 
And,  oh!  let  his  countenance  be  lovely,  that 
his  friends  may  delight  in  his  prefence.  Bend 
from  your  clouds,  I  faid,  ghofts  of  my  fathers  I 
bend. 

Such  was  my  fong,  in  Selma,  to  the  lightly- 
trembling  harp.  But  Nathos  was  on  Ullin's  / 
fhore,  furrouhded  by  the  night ;  he  heard  the 
voice  of  the  foe  amidft  the  roar  of  tumbling 
waves.  Silent  he  heard  their  voice,  and  refte4 
on  his  fpear. 

Morning  rofe,  with  its  beams;  the  fons  of 
Erin  appear ;  like  gray  rocks,  with  all  their 
trees,  they  fpread  along  the  coaft.  Cairbar 
flood,  in  the  midft,  and  grimly  fmiled  when  he 
faw  the  foe. 

Nathos  rallied  forward,  in  his  flrength  j 
nor  could  D.ir-thula  flay  behind.  She  came 
vvjtli  the  hero,  lifting  her  Ihining  fpear.  And 
who  are  thefe,  in  their  armour,  in  the  pride  of 

youth  ?  ^ 


«3S        D   A  R-T   Kt   U   L   A^ 

youth  ?  Who  but  the  fons  of  Ufnoth,  Althos  and 
dark-haired  Ardati  ? 

Come,  faid  Nathos,  come!  chief  of  the  high 
Temora  I  Let  our  battle  be  on  the  coall  for  the 
white-bofomed  maid.  His  people  are  not  with 
Nathosj  they  are  behind  that  rolling  fea.  Why 
doft  thou  bring  thy  thoufands  againfl  the  chief 
of  Etha  ?  Thou  didft  fly  *  from  him,  in  battle* 
when  his  friends  were  around  him. 

Youth   of  the  heart  of  pride,  Ihall  Erin's 

king  fight  with  thee  ?  Thy  fathers   were  not 

among  the  renowned,  nor  of  the  kings  of  men* 

Are  the  arms  of  foes  in  their  halls  ?  Or  the  ftiields 

of  other  times  ?  Cairbar  is  renowned  in  Temora, 

^nor  does  he  fight  with  little  men. 

1    The  tear  ftarts  from  car-borne  Nathos ;  he 

?turned  his  eyes  to  his  brothers.     Their  fpears 

hlew,  at  once,  and  three  heroes  lay  on  earth, 

■•Then  the  light  of  their  fwords  gleamed  on  high} 

the  ranks  of  Erin  yield;  as  a  ridge   of  dark 

clouds  before  a  blaft  of  wind. 

Then  Cairbar  ordered  his  people,  Ind  they 
drew  a  thoufand  bows.  A  thoufand  arrows  flew  j 
the  fons  of  Ufnoth  fell.  They  fell  Uke  three 
young  oaks  which  flood  alone  on  the  hill  j  the 
traveller  faw  the  lovely  trees,  and  wondered  how 

*  He  alludes  to  the  flight  of  Cairbar  from  Selama. 

a  ^hey 


A      POEM.  239 

they  grew  fo  lonely ;  the  blaft  of  the  defart 
'^  came,  by  night,  and  laid  then*  green  heads  low  j 
next  day  he  returned,  but  they  were  withered, 
and  the  heath  was  bare. 

Dar-thula  flood  in  lilent  grief,  and  beheld 

their  fall :  no  tear  is  in  her  eye  :  but  her  look 

is  wildly  fad.     Pale  was  her  cheek ;  her  trem- 

?  J   bling  lips  broke  Ihort  an  half-formed  word.  Her 

^^    dark  hair  flew  on  the  wind. ^But  gloomy 

Cairbar  came.  Where  is  thy  lover  now  ?  the 
car-borne  chief  of  Etha  ?  Haft  thou  beheld  the 
halls  of  Ufnoth  ?  Or  the  dark-brown  hills  of 
Fingal  ?  My  battle  had  roared  on  Morven,  did 
not  the  winds  meet  Dar-thula.  Fingal  himfelf 
would  have  been  low,  and  forrow  dwelling  in 
Selma. 

Her  Ihleld  fell  from  Dar-thula's  arm,  her 
breaft  of  fnow  appeared.  It  appeared,  but  it 
was  ftained  with  blood  for  an  arrow  was  fixed  in 
i  -  her  fide.  She  fell  on  the  fallen  Nathos,  like  a 
I  wreath  of  fnow.  Her  dark  hair  fpreads  on  his 
face,  and  their  blood  is  mining  round. 

Daughter  of  Colla  1  thou  art  low!  faid 
Cairbar's  hundred  bards  5  filence  is  at  the  blue 
I  flreamsof  Selama,  for  Truthil's*  race  have  failed. 
\  When  wilt  thou  rife  in  thy  beauty,  fir  ft  of  Erin's 

% 

I  •  Truthil  was  the  founder  of  Dar-thula*s  family. 

»  maids  > 


i4o        D    A   R-T   H   U    L    A.    • 

maids  ?  Thy  ileep  is  long  in  the  tomb,  and  the 
morning  diftant  far.  The  fun  fhall  not  come  to 
thy  bed,  and  fay,  Awake  *  Darthula !  awake, 
thou  firft  of  women  !  the  wind  of  fpring  is 
abroad.  The  flowers  fhake  their  heads  on  the 
green  hills,  the  woods  wave  their  growing 
leaves.  Retire,  O  fun,  the  daughter  of  Colla 
is  afleep.  She  will  not  come  forth  in  her 
beauty:  Ihe  will  not  move,  in  the  fteps  of  her 
lovelinefs. 

Such  was  the  fong  of  the  bards,  when  they 
raifed  the  tomb.  I  fung,  afterwards,  over  the 
grave,  when  the  king  of  Morven  came ;  when 
he  came  to  green  Ullin  to  fight  with  car-borne 
Cairbar. 


•  Rife  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away.  For  lo,  the 
winter  Is  pall,  the  rain  is  over,  and  gone.  The  flowers  appear 
on  the  earth  ;  the  time  of  linging  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  our  land.  The  fig-tree  putteth  forth  her  green 
figs,  and  the  vines,  'with  the  tender  grape,  give  a  good  fmell. 
Arife,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away. 

Solomon's  Song. 


r  E  M  O  R  A 


T    E     M     O     R    A; 

A   N 

EPIC     P  O  E  M*. 

'^r^HE  blue  waves  of  tJUin  roll  in   light. 

JL      The  green  hills  are  covered  with  day. 

Trees  fhake  their  dulky  heads  in  the  breeze ;  and 

gray  torrents  pour  their  noify  ftreams.-— Two 

green 

*  Though  the  hifldry  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  prefent 
J)oem,  was  given  in  the  notes  on  the  two  pieces  preceding,  it 
may- not  be  here  improper  to  recapitulate  fome  part  of  what  has 
been  faid — Immediately  after  the  death  of  Cuchullin,  Cairbar* 
lord  of  Aiha,  openly  fet  up  for  himfelf  in  Conhaughtj,  and  having 
privately  murdered  young  king  Cormac,  became,  without  oppo- 
fition,  fole  monarch  of  Ireland.  The  murder  of  Cormac  was  fb 
much  refcnted  by  Fingal,  that  he  1-efoIved  on  an  expedition  into 
Ireland  againft  Cairbar;  Early  intelligence  of  his  defigns  came 
to  Cairbar,  and  he  had  gathered  the  tribes  together  into  Ulder,  to 
bppofe  Fingal's  landing  ;  at  the  fame  time  his  brother  Cathmqr 
kept  himfelf  with  an  army  near  Temora. — This  Cathmor  is  one 
of  the  fmeft  charafters  in  the  old  poetry.  His  humanity,  gene- 
t-ofity,  and  hofpitality,  were  unparalleled  :  in  fhort,  he  had  no 
fault,  but  too  much  attachment  to  fo  bad  a  brothei  as  Cairbar.— 
The  prefent  poem  has  its  name  from  Temora,  the  royal  palace 
of  the  Iiifh  kings,  near  v/hich  the  laft  and  decifive  battle  wa$ 
fought  between  Fingal  and  Cathmor.     What  has  come  to  the 

R  tranlUtar's 


242  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

green  hills,  with  their  aged  oaks,  farround  a 
narrow  plain.  The  blue  courfe  of  the  moun- 
tain-ftream  is  there ;  Cairbar  ftands  on  its  banks. 

His  fpear  fupports  the  king  :  the  red  eyes 

of  his  fear  are  fad.  Cormac  rifes  in  his  foul, 
with  all  his  gHaftly  wounds.     The  gray  form  of 

tranflator's  hands,  in  a  regular  connexion,  is  little  more  than 
the  opening  of  the  poem. — This  work  appears,  from  the  flory  of 
it,  which  is  ftil!  preferv'd,  to  have  been  one  of  the  greateft  of 
Offian^s  compofitions.  The  variety  of  the  charafters  makes  itin- 
terefting  ;  and  the  war,  as  it  is  carried  on  by  Fingal  and  Cath- 
mor,  affords  inftances  of  the  greateft  bravery,  mixed  with  in- 
comparably generous  aftions  and  fentiments.  One  is  at  a  lofs 
for  which  (idc  to  declare  himfelf :  and  often  wiflies,  when  both 
commanders  march  to  battle,  that  both  may  return  viflorious. 
At  length  the  good  fortune  of  Fingal  preponderates,  and  the  fa- 
mily of  Cormac  are  re-eftablifhed  on  the  Irifli  throne. 

The  Irifh  traditions  relate  the  affair  in  another  light,  and  ex- 
claim againft  Fingal  for  appointing  thirty  judges,  or  rather  ty- 
rants, atTemora,  for  regulating,  the  affairs  of  Ireland.  They 
pretend  to  enumerate  many  afts  of  oppreffion  committed  by  thofe 
judges ;  and  afHrnv,  that  both  they  and  a  part  of  Fingal" s  army, 
which  was  left  in  Ireland  to  enforce  their  laws,  were  at  laft  ex- 
pelled the  kingdom. — Thus  the  Irifli  traditions,  fay  the  hifto- 
rians  of  that  nation.  It  is  faid,  however,  that  thofe  gentlemen 
fometimes  create  fafts,  in  order  afterwards  to  make  remarks 
upon  them  ;  at  leaft,  that  they  adopt  for  real  fafis,  the  traditions 
of  their  bards,  when  they  throw  luftre  on  the  ancient  (late  of 
their  country. 

The  prefcnt  poem  opens  in  the  morning.  Cairbar  is  repre- 
fented  as  retired  from  the  reft  of  the  Irifh  chiefs,  and  tormented 
with  remorfe  for  the  murder  of  Cormac,  when  news  was  brought 
him  of  Fingal's  landing.  What  pafTed,  preceding  that  day,  and 
is  neceflary  to  be  known  for  carrying  on  the  poem,  is  afterwards 
introduced  by  way  of  epifode, 

the 


An    EPIC    POEM.  243 

the  youth  appears  In  the  midft  of  darknefs,  and 
the  blood  pours  from  his  airy  fides. — Cairbar 
thrice  threw  his  fpear  on  earth  j  and  thrice  he 
flroked  his  beard.  His  fteps  are  fhort ;  he  often 
flopt :  and  tofled  his  finewy  arms.  He  is  like  a 
cloud  In  the  defart ;  that  varies  Its  form  to  every 
blaft  :  the  valleys  are  fad  around,  and  fear,  by 
turns,  the  fhower. 

The  king,  at  length,  refumed  his  foul,  and 
took  his  pointed  fpear.  He  turned  his  eyes  to- 
wards Lena  **  The  fcouts  of  the  ocean  ap- 
peared. They  appeared  with  fteps  of  fear,  and 
often  looked  behind.  Cairbar  knew  that  the 
mighty  were  near,  and  called  his  gloomy  chiefs. 
The  founding  fteps  of  his  heroes  came.  They 
drew,  at  once,  their  fwords.  There  Morlath  ■f* 
ftood  with  darkened  face.  Hidalla's  bufhy  hair 
fighs  in  the  wind.  Red-haired  Cormar  bends  on 
his  fpear,  and  rolls  his  fide-long-looking  eyes. 
Wild  is  the  look  of  Malthos  from  beneath  two 
fliaggy  brows. — Foldath  ftands  like  an  oozy 
rock,  that  covers  its  dark  fides  with  foam  ;  his 

*  The  fcene  dcfcribed  here  is  nearly  that  of  the  epic  poem, 
Fingal.  in  this  neighbourhood  alfo  the  fons  of  Ufnoth  werd 
killed. 

-J-  M6r-!ath,  great  hi  the  day  sf  battle.  Hidalla',  nuildly  looking 
hero.  Cor-mar,  expert  at  Jea.  Malth-os,  ^^ov  to /peakt  Fol- 
dath, generous. 

R  z  fpear 


244  T    E    M    O    R    A : 

fpear  is  like  Slimora's  fir,  that  meets  the  wind 
of  heaven.  His  fhield  is  marked  with  the  ftrokes 
of  battle ;  and  his  red  eje  defpifes  danger. 
Thefe  and  a  thoufand  other  chiefs  furrounded 
car-borne  Cairbar,  when  the  fcout  of  ocean 
came,  Mor-amial  *,  from  l^reamy  Lena. — His 
eyes  hang  forward  from  his  face,  his  lips  arc 
trembling,  pale. 

Do  the  chiefs  of  Erin  Itand,  he  faid,  filent  as 
the  grove  of  evening  ?  Stand  they,  like  a  filent 
wood,  and  Fingal  on  the  coaft?  Fingal,  who  Is 
terrible  in  battle,  the  king  of  f^reamy  Morven. 

And  haft  thou  feen  the  warrior,  faid  Cairbar 
with  a  ligh  ?  Are  his  heroes  many  on  the  coafl  ? 
Lifts  he  the  fpear  of  battle  ?  Or  comes  the  king 
itt  peace  ? 

He  conies  not  in  peace,  O  Cairbar:  for  I 
have  fcen  his  forward  fpear  •f'*  It  is  a  meteor  of 
death  :  the  blood  of  thoufands  is  on  its  fteeh 
He  came  iirft  to  the  fhore,  flrong  in  the 

*  Mdr-annail,  Jirong  breath;  a  very  proper  name  for  a 
fcout. 

t  Mor-annal  here  alludes  to  the  particular  appearance  of  Fin- 
gal's  fpear. If  a  man,  upon  his  firfl:  landing  in  a  ftrange 

country,  kept  the  point  of  his  fpear  forward,  it  denoted'in  thofe 
days  that  he  came  in  a  hoftile  manner,  and  accordingly  he  was 
treated  as  an  enemy;  if  he  kept  the  point  behind  him,  it  was  a 
token  offriendftirp,  and  he  was  immediately  invited  to  the  feaft, 
according  to  the  hofpitality  of  the  times. 

3  si"^y 


An    E  P  I  C    POEM.  245 

gray  hair  of  age.  Full  rofe  his  finewy  limbs,  as 
he  ftrode  in  his  might.  That  fword  is  by  his 
fide  which  gives  no  fecond  *  wound.  His  lliield 
is  terrible,  like  the  bloody  moon,  when  it  riftrs 

in  a  ftonn. Then  came  Offian  king  of  fongs; 

and  Morni's  fon,  the  firft  of  men.  Connal 
leaps  forward  on  his  fpear :  Dermid  fpreads  his 
dark-brown  locks.— Fillan  bends  his  bow :  Fer- 
gus ftrides  in  the  pride  of  youth.  Who  is  that 
with  aged  locks  ?  A  dark  lliield  is  on  his  fide. 
His  fpear  trembles  at  every  ftep  ;  and  age  is  on 
his  limbs.     He    bends    his   dark    face    to    the 

ground  ;  the  king  of  fpears  is  fad ! It  is  Uf- 

noth,  O  Cairbar,  coming  to  revenge  his  Ions. 
He  fees  green  UUin  with  tears,  and  he  remem- 
bers the  tombs  of  his  children.  But  far  before 
the  reft,  the  fon  of  Offian  comes,  bright  in  the 
fmiles  of  youth,  fair  as  the  firft  beams  of  the 
fun.  His  long  hair  falls  on  his  back. — His  dark 
brows  are  half  hid  beneath  his  helmet  of  fteel. 
His  fword  hangs  loofc  on  the  hero's  fide.  His 
fpear  glitters  as  he  moves.  I  fled  from  his  ter- 
rible eyes,  king  of  high  Temora  ! 

♦  This  was  the  famous  fword  of  Flngal,  made  by  Luno,  afmith 
of  LocliHn,  and  after  him  poetically  called  the^oa  of  hum  :  it  is 
faid  of  this  fword,  that  it  killed  a  man  at  every  flroke  ;  and  that 
Fingal  never  ufed  it,  but  in  times  of  the  grcatell  danger. 

R  3  Then 


246  T     E     M     O     R     A: 

Then  fly,  thou  feeble  man,  faid  the  gloomy- 
wrath  of  Foldath  :  fly  to  the  grey  ftreams  of  thy 
land,  fon  of  the  little  foul !  Have  not  1  feen  that 
Ofcar  ?  I  beheld  the  chief  in  battle.  He  is  of 
the  mighty  in  danger  :  but  there  are  others  who 
lift  the  fpear.— -Erin  has  many  fons  as  brave  : 
yes — more  brave,  O  car-borne  Cairbar  ? — Let 
poldath  meet  him  in  the  ftrength  of  his  courfe, 
and  fl:op  this  mighty  flream. — My  fpear  is  co- 
vered with  the  blood  of  the  valiant  -,  my  fhield 
is  like  Tura's  wall. 

Shall  Foldath  alone  meet  the  foe,  replied 
the  dark-browed  Malthos  ?  Are  not  they  nu- 
merous on  our  coafl:,  like  the  waters  of  a  thou- 
fand  flreams  ?  Are  not  thefe  the  chiefs  who  van- 
quiflied  Swaran,  when  the  fons  of  Erin  fled? 
And  fhall  Foldath  meet  their  braveft  hero  ?  Fol- 
dath of  the  heart  of  pride  !  take  the  ftrength  of 
the  people  by  thy  fide;  and  let  Malthos  come. 
My  fword  is  red  with  flaughter,  but  who  has 
heard  my  words  ?  * 

Sons  of  green  Erin,  begun  the  mild  Hidalla, 
let  not  FIngal  hear  your  words :  leaft  the  foe  re- 
joice, and  his  arm  be  ftrong  in  the  land.— Ye 
are  brave,  O  warriors,  and  like  the  tempefts  of 
the  dciartj  they  meet  the  rocks  without  fear,  and 

*  Xhat  is,  who  lias  heard  my  vaunting?  He  intended  the  ex- 
preffion'  33  a  rebulce  to  the  felf.praife  of  Foldatli. 

overtura 


An    epic    poem.  247- 

overturn  the  woods  in  their  courfe. — But  let  us . 
move  in  our  ftrength,  and  floW  as  a  gathered 

cloud,  when  the  winds  drive  it  from  behind. 

Then  ihall  the  mighty  tremble,  and  the  fpear 
drop  from  the  hand  of  the  valiant. — We  fee  the 
cloud  of  death,  they  will  fay ;  and  their  faces 
will  turn  pale.     Fingal  will  mourn  in  his  age ; 

and  fay  that  his  fame  is  ceafed. Morven  will 

behold  his  chiefs  no  more :  the  mofs  of  years 
ihall  grow  in  Selma. 

Cairbar  heard  their  words,  in  filence,  like 
the  cloud  of  a  Ihower :  it  ftands  dark  on  Cromla, 
till  the  lightning  burfts  its  fide  ;  the  valley  gleams 
with  red  light;  the  fpirits  of  the  ftorm  rejoice. 

So  flood  the   filent  king   of  Temora  ;  at 

length  his  words  are  heard. 

Spread  the  feaft  on  Lena  :  and  let  my  hun- 
dred bards  attend.  And  thou,  red-hair'd  OUa, 
take  the  harp  of  the  king.  Go  to  Ofcar  king  of 
fwords,  and  bid  him  to  our  feaft.  To-day  we 
feaft  and  hear  the  fong ;  to-morrow  break  the 
fpears.  Tell  him  that  I  have  raifed  the  tomb  of 
Cathol  * ;  and  that  my  bards  have  fung  to  his 

ghoft.- 

*  Cathol  the  fon  of  Maronnan,  or  Moran,  was  murdered  by 
Cairbar,  for  his  attachment  to  the  family  of  Cormac.  He  had 
attended  Ofcar  to  the  njoar  of  Iv.is-ihona,  where  they  contrafted 
a  great  fricndfhip  for  one  another.  Ofcar,  immediately  after  the 
death  of  Cathol,  had  fent  a  formal  challenge  to  Cairbar,  which 

R4.  he 


248  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

ghoft.— Tell  him  that  Gairbar  has  heard  his 
fame  at  the  flream.  of  diftant  Carun  *. 

Cathmor  f*  is  not  here  ,  the  generous  bro-r 
ther  of  Cairbar  ;  he  is  not  here  with  his  thou- 
fands,  and  our  arms  are  weak.  Cathmor  is,  a 
foe  to  ftrife  at  the  feaft  :  his  foul  is  bright  as  the 
fun.  But  Cairbar  fhall  fight  withOfcar,  chiefs 
of  the  high  Temora  !  His  words  for  Cathol  were 
many ;  and  the  wrath  of  Cairbar  burns.  He 
fhall  fall  on  Lena  :  and  my  fame  fhall  rife  ill 
blood. 

The  faces  of  the  heroes  brightened.  They 
fpread  over  Lena's  heath.  The  feaft  of  ihells  is 
prepared.     The  fongs  of  the  bards  arofe. 

We  heard  '^  the  voice  of  joy  on  the  coaft,  an4 
we  thought   that   the  mighty  Cathmor  came. 

Cathmor 

he  prudently  declined,  but  conceived  a  fecret  hatred  againft  Of- 
car,  and  "had  beforehand  contrived  to  kill  him  at  the  feaft,  to 
which  he  here  invites  him. 

*  He  alludes  to  the  battle  of  Ofcar  againft  Caros,  J:ifig  of 
Jhips;  who  is  fuppofed  to  be  the  fame  with  Caraufms  the  ufurper. 

f  Cath-mor,  great  In  battle.  Cairbar  takes  advantage  of  his 
brother's  abfence,  to  perpetrate  his  ungenerous  deigns  againft 
Ofcar;  for  the  noble  fpirit  of  Cathmor,  had  he  been  prefent, 
would  not  have  permitted  the  laws  of  that  hofpitality,  for  which 
he  was  fo  renowned  himfelf,  to  be  violated.  The  brothers  form 
a  contraft :  we  do  not  deteft  the  mean  foul  of  Cairbar  more, 
than  we  admire  the  difmterefled  and  generous  mind  of  Cathmor. 

X  Fingal's  army  heard  the  joy  that  was  in  Cairbar's  camp. 
The  charafter  given  of  Cathmor  is  agreeable  to  the  times. 

Some, 


An    EPIC    POEM.  249 

Cathmor  the  friend  of  ftrangers  !  the  brother  of 
red-haired  Cairbar.  But  their  foul/ were -not 
the  fame  :  for  the  light  of  heaven  was  in  the  bo- 
fom  of  Cathmor.  His  towers  rofe  on  the  banks 
of  Atha  :  feven  paths  led  to  his  halls.  Seven 
chiefs  flood  on  thofe  paths,  and  called  the 
flranger  to  the  feaft  !  But  Cathmor  dwelt  in  the 
wood  to  avoid  the  voice  of  praife, 

Olla  came  with  his  fongs.  Ofcar  went  to 
Cairbar's  feaft.  Three  hundred  heroes  attended 
the  chief,  and  the  clang  of  their  arms  is  terrible. 
The  gray  dogs  bounded  on  the  heath,  and  their 

Some,  through  oflentation,  were  hofpitable ;  and  others  fell  na- 
turally into  a  cuftom  handed  down  from  their  anceftors.  But 
what  marks  ftrongly  the  charafter  of  Cathmor,  is  his  averfion  to 
praife ;  for  he  is  reprefented  to  dwell  in  a  wood  to-  avoid  the 
thanks  of  his  guefls ;  which  is  ftill  a  higher  degree  of  generofity 
than  that  of  Axylus  in  Homer :  for  the  poet  does  not  fay,  but 
the  good  man  might,  at  the  head  of  his  own  table,  have  hear4 
with  pleafure  the  praife  beftowed  pn  him  by  the  people  he  en- 
tertained. 

Ttv^^un^yiv,  Of  tvuim  ivxltfjUrri  t»  A^tcQjix 

TlayTuq  yecf  ^iXtscrxEK,   o^v  iw»  olxtcc  miur. 

HOM.  6.  12. 

Next  Teuthra's  fon  diftain'd  the  fands  with  blood, 
Axylus,  hofpitable,  rich  and  good  : 
In  fair  Arillie's  walls,  his  native  place. 
He  held  his  feat ;  a  friend  to  human  race, 
Faft  by  the  road,  his  ever  open  door 
Qblig'd  the  wealthy,  and  reliev'U  the  poor.  Pope. 

howling 


250  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

howling  Is  frequent.  Fingal  faw  the  departure 
of  the  hero :  the  foul  of  the  king  was  fad.  He 
breads  the  gloomy  Calrbar :  but  who  of  the  race 
of  Trenmor  feared  the  foe  ? 

My  fon  lifted  high  the  fpear  of  Cormac :  an 
hundred  bards  met  him  with  fongs.  Cairbar 
concealed  with  fmiles  the  death  that  was  dark  in 
his  foul.  The  feaft  is  fpread,  the  fhells  refound ; 
joy  brightens  the  face  of  the  hoft.  But  it  was 
like  the  parting  beam  of  the  fun,  when  he  is  to 
hide  his  red  head,  in  a  ftorm. 

Cairbar  rofe  in  his  arms  ;  darknefs  gathers 
on  his  brow.  The  hundred  harps  ceafed  at  once. 
The  clang  *  of  fhields  is  heard.  Far  diftant  on 
the  heath  Olla  raifed  his  fong  of  woe.  My  fon 
knew  the  fign  of  death  j  and  rifmg  feized  his 
ifpear. 

Oscar  !  faid  the  dark*red  Cairbar,  I  behold 
the  fpear  "f  of  Erin's  kings.     The  fpear  of  Te- 

•  When  a  chief  was  determined  to  kill  a  man  that  was  in  his 
power  already,  it  was  ufual  to  fignify,  that  his  death  was  intend- 
ed, by  the  found  of  alhield  ftruck  with  the  blunt  end  of  a  Ip ear ; 
at  the  fame  time  that  a  bard  at  a  diftance  raifed  the  deaih-fong.  A 
ceremony  of  another  kind  was  long  ufed  in  Scotland  upon  fuch 
occafions.  Every  body  has  heard  that  a  bull's  head  was  ferved 
up  to  Lord  Douglas  in  the  caftle  of  Edinbuigh,  as  a  certain  fig- 
nal  of  his  approaching  death. 

t  Cormac,  the  fon  of  Arth,  had  given  the  fpear,  which  is 
here  -the  foundation  of  the  quarrel,  to  Ofcar  when  he  came  to 
congratulate  him,  upon  Swaran's  being  expelled  from  Ireland. 

mora 


An    epic    poem.  251 

mora  *  glitters  in  tliy  hand,  fon  of  the  woody 
Morven !  It  was  the  pride  of  an  hundred  kings, 
the  death  of  heroes  of  old.  Yield  it,  fon  of 
Offian,  yield  it  to  car-borne  Cairbar.  ■trt 

Shall  I  yield,  Ofcar  replied,  the  gift  of 
Erin's  injured  king :  the  gift  of  fair-haired  Cor- 
mac,  when  Ofcar  fcattered  his  foes  ?  I  came  to 
his  halls  of  joy,  when  Swaran  fled  from  Fingal. 
Gladnefs  rofe  in  the  face  of  youth  :  he  gave  the 
fpear  of  Temora.  Nor  did  he  give  it  to  the  fee- 
ble, O  Cairbar,  neither  to  the  weak  in  foul. 
The  darknefs  of  thy  face  is  not  a  ftorm  to  me  ; 
nor  are  thine  eyes  the  flames  of  death.  Do  I 
fear  thy  clanging  fliield  ?  Does  my  foul  tremble 
at  011a*s  fong  ?  No  :  Cairbar,  frighten  thou  the 
feeble;  Ofcar  is  like  a  rock. 

And  wilt  thou  not  yield  the  fpear,  replied 
the  rifing  pride  of  Cairbar  ?  Are  thy  words 
mighty  becaufe  Fingal  is  near,  the  gray-haired 
warrior  of  Morven.  He  has  fought  with  little 
men.  But  he  muft  vaniiTi  before  Cairbar,  like 
a  thin  pillar  of  mift  before  the  winds  of  Atha'f'. 

Were  he  who  fought  with  little  n>ennear  the 
chief  of  Atha:  Atha's  phief  would  yield  green, 

*  Ti'-m6r-ri',  the  hou/e  of  the  great  king,  the  name  of  the  royal 
palace  of  the  fupreme  kings  of  Ireland. 

t  A\\\?Ly  Jhalkw  river :  the  name  of  Cairbay's  feat  in  Coni. 
paught.  I 

Erin 


25*^  T     E    M    O    R     A: 

Erin  to  avoid  his  rage.  Speak  not  of  the  mighty, 
O  Cairbar!  but  turn  thy  fword  on  rae.  Our 
firength  is  equal  :  but  Flngal  is  renowned  !  the 
firft  of  mortal  men  ! 

Their  people  few  the  darkening  chiefs. 
Their  crowding  fteps  are  heard  around.  Their 
eyes  roll  in  fire.  A  thoufand  fwords  are  half  un- 
ilieathed.  Red-haired  OUa  raifed  the  fong  of 
battle  :  the  trembling  joy  of  Ofcar's  foul  arofe  ; 
the  wonted  joy  of  his  foul  when  Fingal's  horn 
was  heard.  .  '  - '  . 

Dark  as  the  dwelling  wave:  of  ^cean  before 
the  rifing  winds,  when  it  bends  its  head  near  the 
coaft,  .came  on  the  hoft  of  Cairbar. — — Daugh- 
*  ter  of  Tofcar  *  !  why  that  tear  ?  He  is  not  fallen 
yet.  Many  were  the  deaths  of  "his  arm  before 
my  hero  fell !— Behold  they  faW  before  my  fon 
like  the  groves  in  the  defart,  \yhen  an  angry 
ghoft  rufhes  through  night,  and  takes  their 
gi'ecn  heads  in  his  hand !  Morlath  falls  :  Maron- 
nail  dies :  Conachar  trembles  in  his  blood.  Cair- 
bar Ihirlnks  before  Ofcar's  fword  j  and  creeps  in 
darkncfe  behind  his  ftone.  He  lifted  the  fpear 
in  fecret,  and  pierced  my  Ofcai^'s  fide.  He  falls 
forward  on  his   fhield  :    his  knee    fuftains  the 


*  The  poet  means  MaJvIna,  the  daughter  of  Tofcar,  to  whom 
hd  addreffed  that  part  of  the  poem,  which  related  to  the  death 
of  Ofcar  her  lover, 

chief : 


An    EPIC    POEM.  253 

chief:  but  his  fpear  is  in  his  hand.  See  gloomy 
Cairbar  *  falls.  The  ftecl  pierced  his  forehead,, 
and  divided  his  red  hair  behind.  He  lay,  like  a 
Ihattered  rock,  which  Cromla  Ihakes  from  its 
Ude.  But  never  more  Ihall  Ofcar  rife !  he  leans 
oh  his  bolTy  fhicld.  His  fpear  is  in  his  terrible 
hand :  Erin's  fons  flood  diftant  and  dark.  Their 
Ihouts  arofe,  like  the  crowded  noife  of  ilreams, 
and  Lena  echoed  around. 

FiNGAL  heard  the  found;  and  took  his  fa- 
ther's fpear.  His  fteps  are  before  us  on  the 
heath.  He  fpoke  the  words  of  woe.  I  hear  the 
noife  of  battle :  and  Ofcar  is  alone.  Rife,  ye 
fons  of  Morven,  and  join  the  hero's  fword. 

OssiAN  ruHied  along  the  heath.  Fillan 
bounded  over  Lena.  Fergus  flew  with  feet  df 
wind.  Fingal  ftrode  in  his  ftrcngth,  and  the 
light  of  his  fliield  is  terrible.  The  fons  of  Erin 
faw  it  far  diftant ;  they  trembled  in  their  fouls. 
They  knew  that  the  wrath  of  the  king  arofe : 
and  they  forefaw  their  death.  We  firft  arrived  j 
we  fought ;  and  Erin's  chiefs  withftood  our  rage. 

•  The  Ififh  hillorjans  place  the  death  of  Cairbar,  in  the  latter 
end  of  the  third  century :  they  fay,  he  was  killed  in  battle 
againft  Ofcar  the  fan  of  Offiaii,  but  deny  that  he  fell  by  his 
hand.  As  they  have  nothing  to  go  upon  but  the  traditions  of 
their  bards,  the  tranflator  thinks  that  the  account  of  Ollian  is  as 
probable :  at  the  word,  it  is  but  oppofing  one  tradition  to  an- 
other. 

.i^-.  But 


254  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

But  when  the  king  came,  in  the  found  of  hi3 
courfe,  what  heart  of  fteel  could  ftand  !  Erin 
fled  over  Lena.     Death  purfued  their  flight. 

We  faw  Ofcar  leaning  on  his  fhield.  We  faw 
his  blood  around.  Silence  darkened  on  every 
hero's  face.  Each  turned  his  back  and  wept. 
The  king  Itrove  to  hide  his  tears.  His  gray 
beard  whittled  in  the  wind.  He  bends  his  head 
over  his  fon  ;  and  his  words  are  mixed  with 
fighs. 

And  art  thou  fallen,  Ofcar,  In  the  midft  of 
thy  courfe?  the  heart  of  the  aged  beats  over 
thee  1  He  fees  thy  coming  battles.  He  beholds 
the  battles  which  ought  to  come,  but  they  are 
cut  off  from  thy  fame.  When  fhall  joy  dwell  at 
Selma  ?  When  fhall  the  fong  of  grief  ceafe  o« 
Morvcn  ?  My  fons  fall  by  degrees :  Fingal  fhall 
be  the  lafi:  of  his  race.  The  fame  which  I  have 
received  lliall  pafs  away :  my  age  will  be  without 
friends.  I  Ihall  fit  like  a  grey  cloud  in  my  hall : 
nor  fhall  I  expe6^  the  return  of  a  fon,  in  the 
midft  of  his  founding  arms.  Weep,  ye  heroes 
of  Morven !  never  more  fhall  Ofcar  rife! 

And  they  did  weep,  O  Fingal;  dear  was  the 
hero  to  their  fouls.  He  went  out  to  battle^  and 
the  foes  vanifhed  ;  he  returned,  in  peace,  amidft 
their  joy.  No  father  mourned  his  fon  flain  in 
youth  i  no  brother  his  brother  of  love.     They 


*     Ait    EPIC    POEM*  255 

fell,  without  tears,  for  the  chief  of  the  people 
was  low !  Bran  *  is  howling  at  his  feet :  gloomy 
Luath  is  fad,  for  he  had  often  led  them  to  the 
chace ;  to  the  bounding  roes  of  the  defart. 

When  Ofcar  beheld  his  friends  around,  his 
white  breaft  rofe  with  a  figh. — The  groans,  he 
faid,  of  my  aged  heroes,  the  howling  of  my 
dogs,  the  fudden  burfls  of  the  fong  of  grief, 
have  melted  Ofcar's  foul.  My  foul,  that  never 
melted  before  ;  it  was  like  the  fteel  of  my  fword. 
— Oflian,  carry  me 'to  my  hills!  Raifethe  ftones 
of  my  fame.  Place  the  horn  of  the  deer,  and  my 
fword  within  my  narrow  dwelling. — The  tor- 
rent hereafter  may  walh  away  th€  earth  of  my 
tomb  :  the  hunter  may  find  the  fteel  and  fay, 
*'  This  has  been  Ofcar's  fword." 

And  falleft  thou,  fon  of  my  fame  !  And  fliall 
I  never  fee  thee,  Ofcar  !  When  others  hear  of 
their  fons,  I  ihall  not  hear  of  thee.  The  mofs  is 
on  the  ftones  of  his  tomb,  and  the  mournful 
wind  is  there.  The  battle  fhall  be  fought  with- 
out him :  he  iTiall  not  purfue  the  dark-brown 
hinds.  When  the  warrior  returns  from  battles, 
and  tells  of  other  lands,  he  will  fay,  I  have  feen 

*  Bran  was  one  of  Fingal's  dogs. — He  was  fo  remarkable  for 
his  fleetnefs,  that  the  poet,  in  a  piece  which  is  not  juft  now  in 
the  tranflator's  hands,  has  given  him  the  fame  properties  widi 
Virgil's  Camilla, 

.  a  tomb. 


•   i5^  1"    E    M    O    R    A: 

a  tomb,  by  the  roaring  ftream,  where  a  warriof 
darkly  dwells  :  he  was  flain  by  car-borne  Ofcar, 
the  firft  of  mortal  men.— I,  perhaps,  fhall  hear 
him,  and  a  beam  of  joy  will  rife  in  my  foul. 

The  night  would  have  defcended  in  forrowj 
and  morning  returned  in  the  fhadow  of  grief : 
our  chiefs  would  have  flood  like  cold  dropping 
rocks  on  Lena,  and  have  forgot  the  war,  had 
not  the  king  difperfed  his  grief,  and  raifed  his 
mighty  voice.  The  chiefs,  as  new-wakened 
from  dreams,  lift  their  heads  around. 

How  long  fhall  we  weep  on  Lena  j  or  pour 
our  tears  in  Ullin  ?  The  mighty  will  not  return. 
Ofcar  Iball  not  rife  in  his  ftrength.  The  valiant 
muft  fall  one  day,  and  be  no  more  known  on 
his  hills.™ Where  are  our  fathers,  O  warriors  ! 
the  chiefs  of  the  times  of  old  ?  They  have  fet 
like  ftars  that  have  ibone,  we  only  hear  the 
found  of  their  praife.  But  they  were  renowned 
in  their  day,  and  the  terror  of  other  times. 
Thus  Iball  we  pafs,  O  warriors,  in  the  day  of 
our  fall.  Then  let  us  be  renowned  when  wc 
;  may ;  and  leave  our  fame  behind  us,  like  the' 
laft  beams  of  the  fun,  wheahe  hides  his  red  head 
in  the  weft. 

Ullin,  my  aged  bard!  take  the  fliip  of  the' 
king.  Carry  Ofcar  to  Selma,  and  let  the  daugh'^ 
ters  of  Morven  weep.     We  lliall  fight  in  Erin 

for 


Ai;    EPIC   POEM.  257 

for  the  race  of  fallen  Cormac.  The  days  of  my 
years  begin  to  fail :  I  feel  the  Weaknefs  of  my 
arm.  My  fathers  bend  from  their  clouds,  to 
receive  their  gray-haired  fon.  But,  Trenmor ! 
before  I  go  hence,  one  beam  of  my  fame  fliall 
rife :  fo  fhall  my  days  end,  as  my  years  begun, 
in  fame  :  my  life  fhall  be  one  ftream  of  light  to 
other  times. 

Ullin  rais'd  his  white  fails  :  the  wind  of  the 
fouth  came  forth.  He  bounded  on  the  waves 
towards  Selma's  walls. — I  remained  in  my  grief, 

but  my  words  were  not  heard. The  feaft  is 

fpread  on  Lena  :  an  hundred  heroes  reared  the 
tomb  of  Cairbar  :  but  no  fong  is  raifed  over  the 
chief  J  for  his  foul  had  been  dark  and  bloody. 
We  remembered  the  fall  of  Cormac !  and  what 
could  we  fay  in  Cairbar's  praife  ? 

The  night  came  rolling  down.  The  light  of 
an  hundred  oaks  arofe.  Fingal  fat  beneath  a 
tree.  The  chief  of  Etha  fat  near  the  king,  the 
gray-hair'd  ftrength  of  Ufnoth. 

Old  Althan  *  flood  in  the  midft,  and  told  the 
tale  of  fallen  Cormac.     Althan  the  fon  of  Co- 

•  Althan,  the  fon  of  Conachar,  was  the  chief  bard  of  ArtH 
king  of  Ireland.  After  the  death  of  Arth,  Althan  attended  his 
fon  Cormac,  and  was  prefent  at  his  death. — He  had  made  his 
efcape  from  Cairbar,  by  the  means  of  Cathmor,  and  coming  to 
Fingal,  related,  as  here,  the  death  of  his  mailer  Cormac. 

S  nachar, 


258        .     T    E    M    O    R    A: 

nachar,  the  friend  of  car-borne  CuchuUin :  he 
dwelt  with  Cormac  in  windy  Temora,  when 
Semo's  fon  fought  with  generous  Torlath. — 
The  tale  of  Althan  was  mournful,  and  the  tear 
was  in  his  eye. 

*  The  fetting  fun  was  yellow  on  Dora  f*. 
Gray  evening  began  to  defcend.  Temora's 
woods  fliook  with  the  blaft  of  the  unconftant 
wind.  A  cloud,  at  length,  gathered  in  the 
weft,  and  a  red  ftar  looked  from  behind  its 
edge.— I  ftood  in  the  wood  alone,  and  faw  a 
ghoft  on  the  darkening  air.  His  ftride  extended 
from  hill  to  hill :  his  Ihield  was  dim  on  his  fide. 
It  was  the  fon.  of  Semo :  I  knew  the  fadnefs  of 
his  face.     But  he  paffed  away  in  his.  blaft  ;  and 

all  was  dark  around. My  foul  was  fad.     I 

went  to  the  hall  of  fliells.  A  thoufand  lights 
arofe  :  the  hundred  bards  had  ftrung  the  harp. 
Cormac  ftood  in  the  midft,  like  the  morning 
ftar  :f,  when  it  rejoices  on  the  eaftern  hill,  and 

its 

•  Althan  fpeaks. 

f  Doira,  the  'v:oo/ly  fide  of  a  mountain  ;  h  is  here  a  hill  in  the- 
neighbourhood  of  Temora.  ' 

'X  ^ualiSf  uli  oceani  perfufus  Ludfer  unda, 
Slj/cm  Venus  ante  alios  ajirorum  di  "tgit  i'^neSy 
Extulii  cs factum  ccelof  tenehiaf^ue  refolvit, 

ViRG. 

S9 


An    E  P  I  C    P  O  E  M.  25^ 

its  young  beams  are  bathed  in  Ihowers. — The 
fword  of  Artho  *  was  in  the  hand  of  the  king  ; 
and  he  looked  with  joy  on  its  poliibed  ftuds : 
thrice  he  attempted  to  draw  it,  and  thrice  he 
failed  :  his  yellow  locks  are  fpread  on  his  flioul- 
ders  :  his  cheeks  of  youth  are  red. — I  mourned 
over  the  beam  of  youth,  for  he  was  foon  toTet. 

Althan  !  he  faid,  with  a  fnlile,  haft  thou 
beheld  my  father  ?  Heavy  is  the  fword  of  the 
king,  furcly  his  arm  was  ftrong.  O  that  I  were 
like  him  in  battle,  when  the  rage  of  his  wrath 
arofe  !  then  would  I  have  met,  like  CuchuUin, 
the  car-borne  fon  of  Cantt'ia !  But  years  may 
cc^me'on,  O  Althan  !  and  my  arm  be  ftrong.— 
Haft  thou  heard  of  Semo's  fon,  the  chief  of 
high  Temora  ?  He  might  have  returned  with 
his  fame  ;  for  he  promifed  to  return  to-night. 
My  bards  wait  him  with  their  fongs,  and  my 
fcaft  is  fprcnd. — 

I  HEARD  the  king  In  filence.  My  tears  be- 
gan to  flow.  I  hid  them  with  my  gray  locks  j 
but  he  perceived  my  grief. 

So  from  the  feas  exerts  his  radiant  henJj 
,  The  ftar,  by  vvhom  the  lights  of  Jicav'n  r.rc  !cJ  : 
Shakes  from  his  rofy  locks  the  pearly  'hnvs  ; 
Difpels  the  darknefs,  and  the  day  renews. 

Dp.  YDE.V^ 

*  Arth,  or  Artho,  the  father  of  Cor:n?c  king  of  Ireland. 

S  2  Sox 


26o  T     E     M     O     R     A: 

Son  of  Conachar !  he  faid,  is  the  king  of 
Tura  low  ?  Why  buriis  thy  figh  in  fecret.  ? 
And  why  dcfcends  the  tear  ?— Comes  the  car- 
borne  I'orlatli  ?  Or  the  found  of  the  red-haired 

Cairbar  r They  come!— for  I  fee  thy  grief  j 

and  Tura's  king  is  low ! — Shall  I  not  rulh  to 
battle?-— But  I  cannot  lift  the  arms  of  my  fa- 
thers!—O  had  mine  arm  the  ftrcngth  of  Cu- 
chullin,  foon  would  Cairbar  fly  ;  the  fame  of 
my  fatliers  would  be  renewed ;  and  the  acftions 
of  other  times ! 

He  took  his  bow  of  yew.  Tears  flow  from 
his  fparkling  eyes, — Grief  faddens  around  :  the 
bards  bend  forward  from  tiicir  harps.  Theblafl 
touches  tlicir  firings,  and  the  found  of  woe 
afcends. 

A  VOICE  is  heard  at  a  diftance,  as  of  one  in 
grief;  it  was  Carrll  of  other  times,  who  came 
from  the  dark  Slimora*.— He  told  of  the  death 
of  Cuchullln,  and  of  his  mighty  deeds.  The 
people  were  fcattercd  around  his  tomb  :  their 
arms  lay  on  the  ground.  They  had  forgot  the 
battle,  for  the  Ibund  of  his  Ihield  had  ceafed. 

Bi^T  who,  faid  the  foft- voiced  Carril,  come 
like  tlie  bounding  rocs  ?  their  ftatvire  is  like  the 

•  -SlIrnoTa,  a  hill  in  Connaught,  near  which  Cuchullin  was 
killed. 

young 


An    EPIC    POEM.  z6i 

young  trees  of  the  plain,  growing  In  a  fliower : 
-—Soft  and  ruddy  are  their  cheeks :  but  fearlefs 

fouls  look  forth  from  their  eyes  ? Who  but 

the  fons  of  Ufnoth,  the  car-borne  chiefs  of 
Etha  ?  The  people  rife  on  every  fide,  like  the 
firength  of  an  half-extinguiflied  fire,  when  the 
winds  come  fuddenly  from  the  defart,  on  their 
ruftling  wings. —  The  found  of  Caithbat's 
fhield  was  heard.  The  heroes  faw  Cuchullin  *, 
in  the  form  of  lovely  Nathos.  So  rolled  his 
fparkling  eyes,  and  fuch  were  his  fteps  on  his 
heath.— ^ — Battles  are  fought  at  Lego  :  the  fvvord 
of  Natlios  prevails.    Soon  Ihalt  thou  behold  him 

in  thy  halls,  king  of  woody  Temora  ! 

And  foon  may  I  behold  him,  O  Carril !  re- 
plied tlic  returning  joy  of  Cormac.  But  my  foul 
is"  fid  for  Cuchullin  ;  his  voice  was  pleafant  in 

mine  ear. Often  have  wc  moved  on  Dora,  at 

the  chace  of  the  dark-brown  hinds  :  his  bow  was 
unerring  on  tlie  mountains.  —  He  fpokc  of 
mighty  men.     Pic  told  of  the  deeds  of  my  fa- 

tlicrs ;  and  I  felt  tlicjoy  of  my  brcaft. But  fit 

thou,  at  the  feaft,  O  Carril ;  I  have  often  heard 
tliy  voice.  Sing  In  tlicpralfe  of  Cuchullin  j  and 
of  that  mighty  Granger. 


*  That  is,  they  faw  a  manlfeft  likenefs  between  the  perfon  of 
N.:thos  and  Cuchullin. 


S  3  Day 


t6z  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

Day  rofe  on  Temora,  with  all  the  beams  of 
the  eaft.  1  rathin  came  to  the  hall,  the  fon  of 
old  Gellama  *.— I  behold,  he  faid,  a  dark  cloud 
in  the  defart,  king  of  Innis-fail!  a  cloud  it 
feemed  at  firft,  but  now  a  crowd  of  men.  One 
ftrldes  before  them  in  his  ftrength  ;  and  his  red 
hair  flies  in  the  wind.  His  lliield  glitters  to  the 
beam  of  the  eaft.     His  fpear  is  in  his  hand. 

Call  him  to  the  feaft  of  Temora,  replied  the 
king  of  Erin.  My  hall  is  the  houfe  of  ftran- 
gcrs,  fon  of  the  generous  Gellama  !— Perhaps  it 
is  the  chief  of  Etha,  coming  in  the  found  of  his 
renown.— Hail,  mighty  ftranger,  art  thou  of 
the  friends  of  Cormac  ?— But  Carril,  he  is  dark, 
and  unlovely  ;  and  he  draws  his  fword.  Is  that 
the  fon  of  Ufnoth,  bard  of  the  times  of  old  ? 

It  is  not  the  fon  of  Ufnoth,  faid  Carril,  but 

the  chief  of  Atha. Why  comefl  thou  in  thy 

arms  to  Temora,  Cairbar  of  the  gloomy  brow  ? 
Let  not  thy  fword  rife  againft  Cormac !  Whither 
doft  thou  tm'n  thy  fpeed  ? 

He  paiTtd  on  in  his  darknefs,  and  feized  the 
hand  of  the  king.  Cormac  forefaw  his  death, 
and  the  rage  of  his  eyes  arofe. — Retire,  thou 
gloomy  chief  oT  Atha  :  Nathos  comes  with  bat- 
tle.  Thou  art  bold  in  Cormac's  hall,  for  his 

*  Geal-!amha,  white-handed, 

arm 


An    EPIC    POEM.  263 

arm  Is  weak. — The  fword  entered  Cormac's 
fide  :  he  fell  in  the  halls  of  his  fathers.  His  fair 
hair  2s  in  the  duft.  His  blood  is  fmoaking 
round. 

And  art  thou  fallen  in  thy  halls,  I  faid  *,  O 
fon  of  noble  Artho  ?  The  ihicld  of  CuchuUin  was 
not  near.  Nor  the  fpear  of  thy  father.  Mourn- 
ful are  the  mountains  of  Erin,  for  the  chief  of 

the   people   is   low  ! Bleft   be  thy  foul,    O 

Cormac !  thou  art  fnatched  from  the  midft  of 
thy  courfe. 

My  words  came  to  the  ears  of  Cairbar,  and 
he  clofed  vs  •f  in  the  midft  of  darknefs.  He 
feared  to  ftretch  his  fword  to  the  bards  i : 
though  his  foul  was  dark.  Three  days  we 
pined  alone  :  on  the  fourth,  the  noble  Cathmor 
came.— He  heard  our  voice  from  the  cave  j  he 
turned  the  eye  of  his  wrath  on  Cairbar. 

Chief  of  Atha!  he  faid,  how  long  wilt  thou 
pain  my  foul  ?  I'hy  heart  is  like  the  rock  of  the 
defart ;  and  thy  thoughts  are 'dark. — But  thou 
art  the  brother  of  Cathmor,  and  he  will  fight 

thy  battles. But  Cathmor's  foul  is  not  like 

thine,  thou  feeble  hand  of  war!  The  light  of 

•  Althan  fpeaks. 

t  That  is,  himfclf  and  Carril,  as  it  afterwards  appears. 
J  The  pcrfons  of  the  bards  were  fo  facred,  that  even  he,  who 
had  juft  murdered  his  fovereign,  feared  to  kill  them. 

S  4  my 


264  T    E    M    O    R    A: 

my  bofom  Is  ftained  with  thy  deeds  :  the  bards 
will  not  fing  of  my  renown.  They  may  fay, 
**  Cathmor  was  brave,  but  he  fought  for 
**  gloomy  Cairbar."  They  will  pafs  over  my 
tomb  in  filence,  and  my  fame  Ihall  not  be 
heard. — Cairbar  !  loofe  the  bards  :  they  are  the 
fons  of  other  times.  Their  voice  Ihall  be  heard 
in  other  ages,  when  the  kings  of  Temora  have 
failed. 

We  came  forth  at  the  words  of  the  chief.  We 
faw  him  in  his  ftrength.  He  was  like  thy 
youth,  O  Fingal,  when  thou  firft  didft  lift  the 
fpear.— His  face  was  like  the  funny  field  when  it 
is  bright :  no  darknefs  moved  over  his  brow. 
But  he  came  with  his  thoufands  to  Ullln ;  to  aid 
the  red-haired  Cairbar  :  and  now  he  comes  to 
revenge  his  death,  O  king  of  woody  Mor- 
ven. 

And  let  him  come,  replied  the  king;  I  love 
a  foe  like  Cathmor.     His  foul  is  great :  his  arm 

is  ftrong,  and  his  battles  are  full  of  fame. 

I)Ut  the  little  foul  is  like  a  vapour  that  hovers 
round  the  marlhy  lake:  it  never  rifes  on  the 
green  hill,  left  the  winds  meet  it  there  :  its 
dwelling  is  in  the  cave,  and  it  fends  forth  the 
dart  of  death. 

UsNOTH  !  thou  haft  heard  the  fame  of  Etha's 
car-borne  chiefs. — Our  young  heroes,  O  war- 
rior. 


An    EPIC    POEM.  ^65 

rior,  are  like  the  renown  of  our  fethers. — 
They  fight  in  youth,  and  they  fall:  their  names 
are  in  the  fong. — But  we  are  old,  O  Ufnoth,  let 
us  not  fall  like  aged  oaks ;  which  the  blaft  over- 
turns in  fecret.  The  hunter  came  paft,  and 
faw  them  lying  gray  acrofs  a  ftream.  How  have 
thefe  fallen,  he  faid,  and  whiftling  pafled  along. 

Raise  the  fong  of  joy,  ye  bards  of  Morvcn, 
that  our  fouls  may  forget  the  paft.— -The  red 
ftars  look  on  us  from  the  clouds,  and  filently  de- 
fcend.  Soon  ihall  the  gray  beam  of  the  morn- 
ing rife,  and  fhew  us  the  foes  of  Cormac. 

Fillan !  take  the  Tpear  of  the  king;  go  to  Mora's 
dark-brown  fide.  Let  thine  eyes  travel  over  the 
heath,  like  flames  of  fire.  Obferve  the  foes  of 
FIngal,  and  the  courfe  of  generous  Cathmor. 
I  hear  a  diftant  found,  like  the  falling  of  rocks 

in  the  defart. But  ftrike  thou  thy  fhield,  at 

times,  that  they  may  not  come  through  night, 
and  the  fame  of  Morvcn  ceafe.— I  begin  to  be 
alone,  my  fon,*  and  I  dread  the  fall  of  my  re- 
nown. 

The  voice  of  the  bards  arofe.  The  king 
leaned  on  the  fhield  of  Trenmor. — Sleep  de- 
fcended  on  his  eyes,  and  his  future  battles  rofe 
in  his  dreams.  The  hoft  are  fleeping  around. 
Dark-haired  Fillan  obferved  the  foe.     His  fteps 

are 


i66  T    E    M    O    R    Ar 

are  on  a  diftant  hill:  we  hear,  at  times,  his 
clanging  fhield. 

One  of  the  Fragments  of  Ancient  Poetry  lately  pablifhed, 
gives  a  different  account  of  the  death  of  Ofcar,  the  fon  of  Of- 
fian.  The  tranfla'or,  though  he  well  knew  the  more  probable 
tradition  concerning  that  hero,  was  unwilling  to  rejeft  a  poem* 
which,  if  not  really  of  Oliian's  compofition,  has  much  of  his 
manner,  and  <concire  turn  of  expreflion.  A  more  corredt  copy 
of  that  fragment,  which  has  fince  come  to  the  tranflator's  hands? 
has  enabled  him  to  correft  the  miftake,  into  which  a  f:milarity 
of  names  had  led  thofe  who  handed  down  the  poem  by  tradition. 
—The  lieroes  of  the  piece  are  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Caruth,  and 
Dermid  the  fon  of  Diaran.  Offian,  or  perhaps  his  imitator, 
opens  the  poem  with  a  lamentation  for  Ofcar,  and  afterwards, 
by  an  eafy  tranfition,  relates  the  flory  of  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Ca- 
ruth, who  feems  to  have  bore  the  fame  charader,  as  well  as 
name,  with  Ofcar  the  fon  of  Offian.  Though  the  tranflator 
thinks  he  has  good  reafon  to  rejeft  the  fragment  as  the  compofi- 
tion of  Ofiian ;  yet  as  it  is,  after  all,  ftill  fomevvhat  doubtful 
whether  it  is  or  not,  he  has  here  fubjoined  it. 

^Tf  7  H  Y  opencft  thou  afrefh  the  fpring  of  my  grief,  O  fon  of 
^  ^  Alpin,  inquiring  how  Ofcar  fell  ?  My  eyes  are  blind  with 
tears ;  but  memory  beams  on  my  heart.  How  can  I  relate  the 
mournful  death  of  the  head  of  the  people !  Chief  of  the  warriors, 
Ofcar,  my  fon,  fhall  I  fee  thee  no  more  I 

He  fell  as  the  moon  in  a  ftcrm ;  as  the  fun  from  the  midft  of 
his  courfe,  when  clouds  rife  from  the  wafte  of  the  waves,  when 
the  blacknefs  of  the  ftorm  inwraps  the  rocks  of  Ardannider.  I, 
like  an  ancient 'oak  on  Morven,  1  moulder  alone  in  my  place. 
The  blaft  hath  lopped  my  branches  away;  and  I  tremble  at  the 
wings  of  the  north.  Chief  of  the  warriors,  Ofcar,  my  fon  ! 
fliall  I  fee  thee  no  more  1 

But,  fon  of  Alpin,  the  hero  fell  not  harmlefs  as  the  grafs  of 
the  field  ;  the  blood  of  the  mighty  was  on  his  fword,  and  he 
travelled  with  death  through  the  ranks  of  their  pride.  But  Of- 
car, thou  fon  of  Caruth,  thou  halt  fallen  low !  No  enemy  fell 

by 


An    epic    poem.  167 

by  thy  h^nd.    Thy  fpear  was  ftained  with  the  blood  of  thy 

friend. 

Dermid  and  Ofcar  were  one :  They  reaped  the  battle  toge- 
ther. Their  friendfhip  was  ftrong  as  their  fteelj  and  death 
walked  between  them  to  the  field.  They  came  on  the  foe  like 
two  rocl:s  falling  from  the  brows  of  Ardven.  Their  fwords  were 
ftained  witis  che  blood  of  the  valiant :  warriors  fainted  at  their 
names.  Wlio  was  equal  to  Ofcar,  but  Dermid  ?  and  who  to 
Permid,  but  Ofcar  ? 

They  killed  mighty  Dargo  in  the  field ;  Dargo  who  never 
fled  in  war.  His  daughter  was  fair  as  the  morn  ;  mild  as  the 
beam  of  night.  Her  eyes,  like  two  ftars  in  a  fhower :  her 
breath,  the  gale  of  fpring  :  her  breads,  as  the  new-fallen  fnow 
floating  on  the  moving  heath.  The  warriors  faw  her,  and 
loved;  their  fouls  were  fixed  on  the  maid.  Each  loved  her  as 
his  fame;  each  muft  poflefs  her  or  die.  But  her  foul  was  fixed 
on  Ofcar;  the  fon  of  Caruth  was  the  youth  of  her  love.  She 
forgot  the  blood  of  her  father ;  and  loved  the  hand  that  fl6w 
him. 

Son  of  Caruth,  faid  Dermid,  I  love ;  O  Ofcar,  I  love  this 
maid.  But  her  foul  cleaveth  unto  thee  ;  and' nothing  can  heal 
Dermid.  Here,  pierce  this  bofom,  Ofcar;  relieve  me,  my 
friend,  with  thy  fword. 

My  fword,  fon  of  Diaran,  fliall  never  be  ftained  with  the 
blood  of  Dermid. 

Who  then  is  worthy  to  flay  me,  O  Ofcar  fon  of  Caruth  ?  Let 
not  my  life  pafs  away  unknown.  Let  none  but  Ofcar  flay  me. 
Send  me  with  honour  to  the  grave,  and  let  my  death  be  re- 
nowned. 

Dermid,  make  ufe  of  thy  fword ;  fon  of  Diaran,  wield  thy 
fteel.  Would  that  I  fell  with  thee !  that  my  death  came  from 
the  hand  of  Dermid ! 

They  fought  i)y  the  brook  of  the  mountain,  by  the  ftreams  of 
Branno.  Blood  tinged  the  running  water,  and  curdled  round 
the  inofly  ftones,  'I  he  ftately  Dermid  fell ;  he  fell,  and  fmiled 
in  death. 

And  falleil  thou,  fon  of  Diaran,  falleft  thou  by  Ofcar's  hand  ! 
Dermid  who  never  yielded  in  war,  thus  do  I  fee  thee  fall ! 

He 


t68  T    E    M     O    R     A: 

He  went,  and  returned  to  the  maid  of  his  love ;  he  retumcd« 
but  ftie  perceived  his  grief. 

Why  that  gloom,  fon  of  Caruth?  what  fliades  thy  mighty 
foal  ? 

Though  once  renowned  for  the  bow,  O  maid,  I  have  loft  my 
fame.  Fixed  on  a  tree  by  the  brook  of  the  hill,  is  the  ftiield  of 
<he  valiant  Gormur,  whom  I  flew  in  battle.  I  have  wafted  the 
day  in  vain,  nor  could  my  arrow  pierce  it. 

Let  me  try,  fon  of  Caruth,  the  fkill  of  Dargo's  daughter. 
My  hands  were  taught  the  bow  :  my  father  delighted  in  my 
ikill. 

She  went.  He  ftood  behind  the  ftiield.  Her  arrow  flew,  and 
pierced  his  breaft. 

Blefled  be  that  hand  of  fnow ;  and  blefTed  that  bow  of  yew  ! 
Who  but  the  daughter  of  Dargo  was  worthy  to  flay  the  fon  of 
Caruth  ?  Lay  me  in  the  earth,  my  fair  one  ;  lay  me  by  the  fide 
of  Dermid, 

Ofcar !  the  maid  replied,  I  have  the  foul  of  the  mighty 
Dargo.     Well  pleafed  I  can  meet  death.     My  forrow  I  can 

end. She  pierced  her  white  bofom  with  the  fteel.     She  fell ; 

flie  trembled  ;  and  died. 

By  the  brook  of  the  hill  their, graves  are  laid  ;  a  birch's  un- 
equal ftiade  covers  their  tomb.  Often  on  their  green  earthen 
tombs  the  branchy  fons  of  the  mountain  feed,  when  mid-day  is 
all  in  flames,  and  fllence  over  all  the  hills. 


C  A  R  R  I  C- 


i  269  ] 

CARRIC-THURA: 
A      POEM*. 

HAST  t  thou  left   thy  blue  courfe    in 
heaven,   golden-haired  fon  of  the  fky  I 
The  weft  has  opened  its  gates ;  the  bed  of  thy 

*  Fingal,  returning  from  an  expedition  which  he  had  made 
Into  the  Roman  province,  refolved  to  vifit  Cathulla  king  of 
]nis-tore,    and  brother  to  Comala,  vvhofc  ftory  is  related,  at 
large,  in  the  dramatic  poem,  publilhed  in  this  colleftion.   Upon 
his  coming  in  fight  of  Carric-thura,  the  palace  of  Cathulla,  he 
obferved  a  flame  on  its  top,  which,  in  thofe  days,  was  a  fignal 
ofdiftrefs.     The  wind  drove  him  into  a  bay,  at  fome  diftance 
from  Carric-thura,  and  he  was  obliged  to  pafs  the  night  on  the 
ihore.     Next  day  he  attacked  the  army  of  Frothal  king  of  Son 
who  had  befieged  Cathulla  in  his  palace  of  Carric-thura,  and  took 
Frothal  himfelf  prifoncr,  after  he  had  engaged  him  in  a  fingle 
combat.    The  deliverance  of  Carric-thura  is  the  fubjeft  of  the 
poem,  but  feveral  other  epifodes  are  interwoven  with  it.     It  ap- 
pears from  tradition,  that  this  poem  was  addrefled  to  a  Culdcc, 
or  one  of  thefirft  Chriftian  miflionaries,  and  that  the  ftory  of  the 
Spirit  of  Loda,  fuppofed  to  be  the  ancient  Odin  of  Scandinavia, 
was  introduced  by  Oflian  in  oppofition  to  the  Culdee's  doftrine. 
Be  this  as  it  will,  it  lets  us  into  Oflian's  notions  of  a  fuperior  be- 
ing ;  and  (hews  that  he  was  not  addidled  to  the  fuperftition  which 
prevailed  all  the  world  over,  before  the  introdudion  of  Chrifti- 
anity. 

f  The  fong  of  Ullin,  with  which  the  poem  opens,  is  in  a  lyric 
meafure.  It  was  ufual  with  Fingal,  when  he  returned  from  his 
expeditions,  to  fend  his  bards  finging  before  him.  This  fpccics 
of  triumph  is  Called,  by  Oflian,  x\iz  feng  of  <vi£iory, 

repofe 


270       CARRIC-TMURA; 

repofe  is  there.  The  waves  come  to  behold  thy 
beauty  :  they  lift  their  trembling  heads :  they  fee 
thee  lovely  in  thy  fleep;  but  they-lhrink  away 
with  fear.     Reft,  in  thy  fhadowy  cave,  Ofun! 

and  let  thy  return  be  in  joy. But  let  a  thou- 

fand  lights  arlfe  to  the  found  of  the  harps  of 
Selma  :  let  the  beam  fpread  in  the  hall,  the  king 
of  fhells  ts  returned  !  The  ftrife  of  Crona  *  i^ 
paft,  like  founds  that  are  no  more  :  raife  the 
fong,  O  bards,  the  king  is  returned  with  hii 
fame ! 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Ullin,  when  Fingal  re- 
turned from  battle:  when  he  returned  in  the 
fair  blulTiing  of  youth;  with  all  his  heavy  locks* 
His  blue  arms  were  on  the  hero ;  like  a  gray 
cloud  on  the  fun,  when  he  moves  in  his  robes  of 
mift,  and  fhews  but  half  his  beams.  His  heroes 
follow  the  king  :  the  feaft  of  ihells  is  fpread* 
Fingal  turns  to  his  bards,  and  bids  the  fong  to 
rife. 

Voices  of  echoing  Cona!  he  faid,  O  bards  of 
other  times !  Ye,  on  whofe  fouls  the  blue  hofts 
of  our  fathers  rife !  ftrike  the  harp  in  my  hall  j 
and  let  Fingal  hear  the  fong.     Pleafant  is  the  joy 

*  OlTian  has  celebrated  the  J^ri/e  of  Crona,  in  a  particular 
poem.  This  poem  is  connefted  with  it,  but  it  was  impoffible 
for  the  tranflator  to  procure  that  part  which  relates  to  Crona, 
with  any  degree  of  purity. 


A      to    E    M.  271 

of  grief !  it  Is  like  the  ihower  of  fpring,  when  it 
foftens  the  branch  of  the  oak,  and  the  young 
leaf  lifts  its  green  head.  Sing  on,  O  bards,  to- 
morrow we  lift  the  fail.  My  blue  courfe  is 
through  the  ocean,  to  Carric-thura's  walls ;  the 
molTy  walls  of  Sarno,  where  Comala  dwelt. 
There  the  noble  Cathulla  fpreads  the  feaft  of 
Ihells.  The  boars  of  his  woods  are  many,  and 
the  found  of  the  chace  fhall  arife. 

Cronnan  *,  fon  of  fong!  faid  Ullin,  Mi- 
nona,  graceful  at  the  harp!  raife  the  fong  of 
Shilric,  to  pleafe  the  king  of  Morven.  Let 
Vinvela  come  in  her  beauty,  like  the  fhowery 
bow,  when  its  Ihews  its  lovely  head  on  the  lake, 
and  the  fetting  fun  is  bright.  And  Ihe  comes, 
O  Fingal !  her  voice  is  foft  but  fad. 

Vin:vela. 

My  love  is  a  fon  of  the  hill.  He  purfues  the- 
flying  deer.  His  gray  dogs  arc  panting  around 
him  J  his  bow-ftring  founds  in  the  wind.  Doll 
thou  reft  by  the  fount  of  the  rock,  or  by  the 
noife  of  the  mountain-ftream  ?  the   rallies  arc 

•  One  Ihould  think  that  the  parts  of  Shilric  and  V'invela 
were  reprefpnted  by  Cronnan  and  Minona,  whofe  very  names 
denote  that  they  were  fingers,  who  performed  in  public.  Crou- 
nan  fignifies /i  ttiourrful  found  %  Minona,  or  iVIiri-'onn, /"_/?  ^/V. 
All  the  dramatic  poems  of  Ofiinn  appear  to  have  been  prefcnted 
before  fingal,  upon  folemn  occafions. 

nodding 


272      C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A : 

nodding  with  tlie  wind,  the  mift  is  flying  over 
the  hill.  I  will  approach  my  love  unperceived, 
and  fee  him  from  the  rock.  Lovely  1  faw  thee 
firft  by  the  aged  oak  of  Branno  *  5  thou  wert  re- 
turning tall  from  the  chace;  the  faireft  among 
thy  friends. 

,  Shilric. 

What  voice  is  that  I  hear?  lliat  voice  like 
the  fummer-wind.-— I  fit  not  by  the  nodding 
ruflies;  I  hear  not  the  fount  of  the  rock.  Afar, 
Vinvela  •f,  afar  1  go  to  the  wars  of  Fingal.  My 
dogs  attend  me  no  more.  No  more  I  tread  the 
hill.  No  more  from  on  high  I  fee  thee,  fair- 
moving  by  the  ftream  of  the  plain ;  bright  as 
the  bow  of  heaven ;  as  the  moon  on  the  weftern 
wave. 

Vinvela. 

'  Then  thou  art  gone,  O  Shilric!  and  I  am 
alone  on  the  hill.  The  deer  are  feen  on  the 
brow ;  void  of  fear  they  graze  along.     No  more 

•  Bran,  of  Branno,  fignifies  a  mount ain-Jir earn:  it  is  here 
(bme  river  known  by  that  name,  in  the  days  of  Oflian.  There 
are  feveral  fmall  rivers  in  the  north  of  Scotland  ftill  retaining  the 
name  of  Bran ;  in  particular  one  which  falls  into  the  Tay  at 

Dunkeld. 

f  Bhin-bheul,  a  ivoman  iiith  a  melodious  'voice.  Bh  in  the 
Galic  Language  has  the  fame  found  with  the  1/  in  Englifh. 

6  they 


A       P    O    E    M.  273 

they  dfead  the  wind  ;  no  more  the  ruflllng  tree. 
The  hunter  is  far  removed  -,  he  is  in  the  field  of 
graves.  Strangers !  fons  of  the  waves !  fpare  my 
lovely  Shilric. 

1 
Shilric. 

If    fall   I  muft  in   the   field,  ralfe  high  my 

^ave,    Vinvela.     Gray    ftones   and   heaped-up 

earth,  fhall  mark  me  to  future  times.     When  the 

hunter  Ihall  fit  by  the  mound,  and  produce  his 

food  at  noon,  *'  Some  warrior  refls  here,"  he 

will  fay ;  and  my  fame  lliall  live  in  his  praife. 

Remember  me,  Vinvela,  when  low  on  earth  I 

lie! 

VinVeLa, 

Yes  !— I  will  remember  thee— Indeed  my 
Shilric  will  fall.  What  Ihall  1  do,  my  love  !. 
when  thou  art  gone  for  ever?  Through  thefc 
hills  I  will  go  at  noon :  I  will  go  through  the 
filent  heath.  There  I  will  fee  the  place  of  thy 
reft,  returning  from  the  chace.  Indeed,  my 
Shilric  will  fall ;  but  I  will  remember  him. 

And  I  remember  the  chief,  faid  the  king  of 
woody  Morvcn  ;  he  confunicd  the  battle  in  his 
rage.  But  now  my  eyes  behold  him  not.  I 
met  him,  one  day,  on  the  hiil  j  his  cheek  was 
pale ;  his  brow  was  dark.  The  figli  was  fre- 
quent in  his  brcaft :  his  Iteps  were  towards  the 

T  defart. 


274      C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A  : 

defart.  But  now  he  is  not  In  the  crowd  of  my 
chiefs,  when  the  founds  of  my  iliields  arife. 
Dwells  he  in  the  narrow  houfe  *,  the  chief  of 
high  Carmora  ?  -f 

Cronnan!  faid  Ullin  of  other  times,  raife 
the  fong  of  Shilrlc  ;  when  he  returned  to  his 
hills,  and  Vinvela  was  no  more.  He  leaned  on 
her  gray  mofly  ftone ;  he  thought  Vinvela 
lived.  He  faw  her  fair-moving  t  on  the  plain  : 
but  the  bright  form  lafted  not :  the  fun-beam 
fled  from  the  field,  and  fhe  was  feen  no  more. 
Hear  the  fong  of  Shilric,  it  is.  foft  but  fad. 

I  SIT  by  the  moffy  fountain  j  on  the  top  of 
the  hill  of  winds.  One  tree  is  ruftling  above 
me.  Dark  waves  roll  over  the  heath.  The  lake 
is  troubled  below.  The  deer  defcend  from  the 
hill.  No  hunter  at  a  diftance  is  feen  ;  no  whift- 
ling  cow-herd  is  nigh.  It  is  mid-day  :  but  all  is 
filent.  Sad  are  my  thoughts  alone.  Didft  thou 
but  appear,  O  my  love,  a  wanderer  on  the 
heath!  thy  hair  floating  on  the  wind  behind 
thee  i  thy   bofom  heaving  on  the  fight ;  thine 

*  llie  grave. 

t  Carn-mdr,  bigb  reeky  f-'-ii- 

X  The  diftinftion,  which  the  ancient  Scots  made  between 
good  and  bad  fpirits,  was,  that  the  former  appeared  fometimes 
in  the  day-time  in  lonely  unfrequented  places,  but  the  latter  fcl- 
dom  but  by  night,  and  always  in  a  difnial  gloomy  fcenc, 

eyes 


A       P    O    E    M,  27^ 

eyes  full  of  tears  for  thy  friends,  whom  the  mift 
of  the  hill  had  concealed  !  Thee  I  would  com- 
fort, my  love,  and  bring  thee  to  thy  father's 
houfe. 

But  is  it  fhe  that  there  appears,  like  a  beam 
of  light  on  the  heath  ?  bright  as  the  moon  in  au- 
tumn, as  the  fun  in  a  fummer-ftorm,  comeft 
thou,  lovely  maid,  over  rocks,  over  mountains 

to  me  ?^ She  fpeaks :  but  how  weak  her  voice  I 

like  the  breeze  in  the  reeds  of  the  pool. 

Returnest  thou  fafe  from  the  war?  Where 
are  thy  friends,  my  love  ?  I  heard  of  thy 
death  on  the  hill  j  I  heard  and  mourned  thee, 
Shilric! 

Yes,  my  fair,  I  return ;  but  I  alorje  of  my 
race.  Thou  fhalt  fee  them  no  more :  their 
graves  I  raifed  on  the  plain. '  But  why  art  thou 
on  the  deferthill?  Why  on  the  heath,  alone? 

Alone  I  am,  O  Shilric  !  alone  in  the  winter- 
houfc.  With  grief  for  thee  I  expired.  Shilric, 
I  am  pale  in  the  tomb. 

She  fleets,  fhe  fails  away;  as  gray  mift  before 
the  wind!— and,  wilt  thou  not  flay,  my  love  ? 
Stay  and  behold  my  tears  ?  fair  thou  appearefl, 
Vinvela!  fair  thou  waft,  when  alive  ! 

By  the  mofly  fountain  I  will  fit  j  on  the  top 
of  the  hill  of  winds.  When  mid-day  is  filent 
around,  converfe,  O  my  love,  with  me  t  come 

T  2  on 


276      C  A  R  R  I  C-T  H  U  R  A: 

on  tlie  wings  of  the  gale !  on  the  blaft  of  the 
mountain,  come!  Let  me  hear  thy  voice,  as 
thou  palleft,  when  mid-day  is  filent  around. 

Such  was  the  fong  of  Cronnan,  on  the  night 
of  Scima's  joy.  But  morning  rofe  in  the  eaft  j 
the  blue  waters  rolled  in  light.  Fingal  bade  his 
fails  to  rife,  and  the  winds  come  ruftling  from 
tlieir  hills.  Inis-tore  rofe  to  fight,  and  Carrie- 
thura's  moffy  towers.  But  the  fign  of  diftrefs 
^vas  on  their  top :  the  green  flame  edged  with 
fmoke.  The  king  of  Morven  ftruck  his  breaft ; 
he  aflumed,  at  once,  his  fpear.  His  darkened 
brow  bends  forward  to  the  coaft :  he  looks  back 
to  the  lagging  winds.  His  hair  is  difordered  oU 
Jiis  back.     The  filence  of  the  king  is  terrible. 

Night  came  down  on  the  fea ;  Rotha's  bay 
received  the  lliip.  A  rock  bends  along  the 
coaft  with  all  its  echoing  wood.  On  the  top  is 
the  circle  ^  of  Loda,  and  the  mofly  ftone  of 
power.  A  narrow  plain  fpreads  beneath,  co* 
rered  with  grafs  and  aged  trees,  which  the  mid- 
night winds,  in  tlieir  wrath,  had  torn  from  the 
fliaggy  rock.  The  blue  courfe  of  a  ftream  is 
there  :  and  the  lonely  blaft  of  ocean  purfues  the 
thiftle's  beard, 

*  '^he  arch  of  Loda  Is  fuppofed  to  be  a  place  of  worfhip  among 
the  Scindinnvians,  as  the  fpiiit  of  Loda  is  thought  to  be  the 
fonic  uitis  tiieir  gad  C'dJn* 

Thu 


A'      F    O    EM.  277 

The  flame  of  three  oaks  arofe:  the  feaft  is 
fpread  around :  but  the  foul  of  the  king  is  fad, 
for  Carric-thura's  battling  chief.  The  wan, 
cold  moon  rofe,  in  the  eaft.  Sleep  dcfcended 
on  the  youths:  Their  blue  helmets  glitter  to  the 
beam ;  the  fading  fire  decays.  But  fleep  did 
not  reft  on  the  king :  he  rofe  in  the  midft  of  hi§ 
arms,  and  flowly  afccnded  the  hill  to  behold  the 
flame  of  Sarno's  tower. 

The  flame  was  dim  and  diftant;  the  moon  hid 
her  red  face  in  the  eaft.  A,  blaft  came  from  die 
mountain,  and  bore,  on  its  wings,  the  fpirit  of 
Loda.  He  came  to  his  place  in  liis  terrors*, 
and  he  fhook  his  dufky  fpcar.— His  eyes  appear 
like  flames  in  his  dark  face;  and  his  voice  is 
like  diflant  thunder.  Fingal  advanced  with  the 
fpear  of  liis  ftrength,  and  raifcd  his  voice  on 
high. 

Son  of  night,  retire:  call  thy  winds  and  fly  ! 
Why  doft  thou  come  to  my  prefence,  with  thy 
fhadowy  arms?  Do  I  fear  thy  gloomy  form,  dif- 
mal  fpirit  of  Loda  ?  Weak  is  thy  Ihield  of 
clouds:  feeble  is  that  meteor,  thy  fword.  The 
blaft  rolls  them  together;  aiid  thou  thyfelf  ddft 
vanilh.  Fly  from  my  prefence  fon  of  night! 
call  thy  winds  and  fly  ! 

*  He  is  defcribcdj  in  a  fimile,  Iii  the  poem.conccmtpg  liic 
death  of  CuchuUin.  ■     .        .  ■ 

T  -  Do^r 


278      CARUIC-THURA: 

Dost  thou  force  me  from  my  place,  replied 
the  hollow  voice  ?  The  people  "bend  before  me. 
I  turn  the  battle  in  the  field  of  the  valiant.  I  look 
on  the  nations  and  they  vanifh :  my  noftrils  pour ' 
the  blaft  of  death.  I  come  *  abroad  on  the 
winds:  the  tempefts  are  before  my  face.  But' 
my  dwelling  is  calm,  above  the  clouds,  the 
fields  of  my  reft  are  pleafant. 

Dwell  then  in  thy  calm  field,  faid  Fingal, 
and  let  Comhal's  fon  be  forgot.  Do  my  fteps 
afcend,  from  my  hills,  into  thy  peaceful  plains? 
Do  1  meet  thee,  with  a  fpear,  on  thy  cloud, 
fpirit  of  difmal  Loda  ?  Why  then  doft  thou 
frown  on  Fingal?  or  fhake  thine  airy  fpear? 
But  thou  frowneft  In  vain :  I  never  fled  from 
mighty  men.  And  fhall  the  fons  of  the  wind 
frighten  the  king  of  Morven  ?  No :  he  knows 
the  weaknefs  of  their  arms. 

Fly  to  thy  land,  replied  the  form :  receive 
the  wind  and  fly.  The  blafts  are  in  the  hollow 
of  my  hand ;  the  courfe  of  the  ftorm  is  mine. 
The  king  of  Sora  is  my  fon,  he  bends  at  the 
ftone  of  my  power.  His  battle  is  around  Carric- 
thura  }  and  he  will  prevail.  Fly  to  thy  land, 
fon  of  Comhal,  or  feel  my  flaming  wrath. 


*  There  is  a  great  refemblance  between  the  terrors  of  this 
mock  divinity,  and  thofc  of  the  true  God,  as  they  are  defcribed 
in  the  iSth  Ffkkn, 


He 


A       POEM.  279 

He  lifted  high  his  lliadowy  fpear ;,  and  bent 
forward  his  terrible  height.  But  the  king,  ad- 
vancing, drew  his  fword ;  the  blade  of  dark- 
brown  Luno  *.  The  gleaming  path  of  the  ftccl 
winds  through  the  gloomy  ghoft.  The  form 
fell  fhapelefs  into  air,  like  a  column  of  fmoke, 
which  the  ftaff  of  the  boy  difturbs,  as  it  rifes 
from  the  half-extinguifhed  furnace. 

Th  e  fpirit  of  Loda  Ihrieked,  as,  rolled  into 
himfelf,  he  rofc  on  the  wind.  Iniftore  ihook  at 
the  found.  -  I'he  waves  heard  it  on  the  deep  : 
they  flopped,  in  their  courfe,  with  fear :  the 
companions  of  Fingal  ftarted,  at  once ;  and 
took  their  heavy  fpears.  They  miiTed  the  king : 
they  rofe  with  rage  j  all  their  arms  rcfound. 

The  moon  came  forth  in  the  eaft.  The  king 
returned  in  the  gleam  of  his  arms.  The  joy  of 
his  youths  was  great  j  their  fouls  fettled,  as  a  fea 
from  a  ftorm.  Ullin  raifed  the  fong  of  glad- 
nefs.  The  hills  of  Iniftorc  rejoiced.  The  flame 
of  the  oak  arofe  j  and  the  tales  of  heroes  ai"C 
told. 

But  Frothal,  Sora's  battling  king,  iits  in  fad- 
nefs  beneath  a  tree.  The  hoft  fprcads  around 
Carric-thura.     He  looks  towards  the  walls  with 


*  The  famous  fword  of  Fingal,  made  by  Lun,  or  Luno,  a 
fmith  of  Lochliij. 


T  4  rage. 


Si8o       C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A  : 

rage.     He  longs  for  the  blood  of  Cathulla,  who, 

once,    overcame   the  king    in    war. When 

Annir  reigned  *  in  Sora,  the  father  of  car-borne 
Frotlial,  a  blaft  rofe  on  the  fea,  and  carried 
Frotliil  to  Iniftore.  Three  days  he  feafted  in 
Sarno's  halls,  and  faw  the  flow  rolling  eyes  of 
C:>iTidla.  He  loved  her,  in  the  rage  of  youth, 
and  rulTied  to  fcize  the  white-armed  maid.  Ca- 
thulla met  the  chief.  The  gloomy  battle  rofe. 
Frothal  is  bound  in  the  hall :  three  days  he 
pfned  alone.  On  the  fourth,  Sarno  fent  him  to 
his  Ihip,  and  he  returned  to  his  land.  But 
wrath  darkened  in  his  foul  againft  the  noble  Ca- 
thulla. When  Annir's  flone  f  of  fame  arofe, 
Frothal  came  in  his  flrength.  The  battle  burned 
round  Carric-thura,  and  Sarno's  molTy  walls. 

Morning  rofe  on  Iniftore.  Frothal  ftruck 
his  dark-brown  fhield.  His  chiefs  ftarted  at  the 
found ;  they  ftood,  but  their  eyes  were  turned 
to  the  fea.  They  faw  Fingal  coming  in  his 
flrength  ;  and  firft  the  noble  Thubar  fpoke. 

Who  comes  like  the  ftag  of  the  mountain, 
with  all  his  herd  behind  him  ?  Frothal,  it  is  a 

*  Annir  was  alfo  the  father  of  Erragon,  who  was  killed  after 
the  death  of  his  brother  Frothal.  The  death  of  Erragon  is  the 
fubjeft  of  i/je  bailie  of  Lora,  a  poem  in  this  colleftion. 

+  That  is,  after  the  death  of  Annir.  To  eredl  the  ftone  of 
pne's  fame,  was,  in  other  word^,  to  fay  that  the  perfpn  was 


dead, 

foe 


I 


A       P    O    E    M.  281 

foe ;  I  fee  his  forward  fpear.  Perhaps  It  Is  the 
Icing  of  Morven,  Fingal  the  firft  of  men.  His 
ac^tio'ns  are  well  known*  on  Gormal  ;  the  blood 
of  his  foes  is  in  Starno's  halls.  Shall  I  afk  the 
peace  *  of  kings  ?  He  is  like  the  thunder  of 
heaven. 

Son  of  the  feeble  hand,  faid  Frothal,  fhall  my 
days  begin  in  darknefs  ?  Shall  I  yield  before  1 
have  conquered  in  battle,  chief  of  ftreamy 
Tora  ?  The  people  would  fay  in  Sora,  Frothal 
flew  forth  like  a  meteor ;  but  the  dark  cloud 
met  it,  and  it  is  no  more.  No  :  Thubar,  I  will 
never  yield ;  my  fame  ihall  furround  me  like 
light.  No  :  I  will  never  yield,  king  of  flreamy 
Tora. 

He  went  forth  with  the  ftream  of  his  people, 
but  they  met  a  rock :  Fingal  flood  unmoved, 
broken  they  rolled  back  from  his  fide.  Nor  did 
they  roll  in  fafety  ;  the  fpear  of  the  king  pur- 
fued  their  flight.  The  field  is  covered  with  he- 
roes.    A  rifing  hill  prefervcd  the  flying  hofl. 

Frothal  faw  their  flight.  1  he  rage  of  his 
bofom  role.     He  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 

and  called  the  noble  Ihubar. Thubar !  my 

people  fled.  My  fame  has  ccafed  to  rife.  I 
will  fight    the   king;  I  feel  my   burning  foul. 

^  Honourable  tern:s  c{  peace. 

Send 


282       CARRIC-THURA:- 

Send  a  bard  to  demand  the  combat.  Speak  not 
againft  Frothal's  words.-— But,  Thubar  !  I  love 
a  maid  5  Ihe  dwells  by  Thano's  ftreani,  the 
white-bofomed  daughter  of  Herman,  Utha  with 
the  foftly -rolling  eyes.  She  feared  the  daughter  * 
of  Iniftore,  and  her  foft  fighs  rofe,  at  my  de- 
parture. Tell  to  Utha  that  I  am  low  ;  but  that 
my  foul  delighted  in  her. 

Such  were  his  words,  refolved  to  fight.  But 
the  foft  figh  of  Utha  was  near.  She  had  followed 
her  hero  over  the  fea,  in  the  armour  of  a  man. 
She  rolled  her  eye  on  the  youth,  in  fecret,  from 
beneath  a  glittering  helmet.  But  now  fhe  faw 
the  bard  as  he  went,  and  the  fpear  fell  thrice 
from  her  hand.  Her  loofc  hair  flew  on  the 
wind.  Her  white  breaft  rofe,  with  fighs.  She 
lifted  up  her  eyes  to  the  kingj  Ihc  would  fpeak, 
but  thrice  fhe  failed. 

FiNGAL  heard  the  words  of  the  bard  j  he 
came  in  the  firength  of  fieel.  They  mixed  their 
deathful  fpears,  and  raifed  the  gleam  of  their 
fwords.  But  the  fteel  of  Fingal  defcended  and 
cut  Frothal's  lliield  in  twain.  His  fair  fide  is 
expofcd  ;  half  bent  he  forefees  his  death. 

*  By  the  daughter  of  Ir.iftore,  Frothal  means  Comala,  of 
whofe  death  Utha  probably  li!id  not  heard ;  confequer.tly  fhe 
feared  that  the  former  paffion  of  Frothal  for  Comala  might 

return. 

» 

Z  Darkness 


A       POEM.  289 

Darkness  gathered  on  Utha's  foul.  The 
tear  rolled  down  her  cheek.  She  rufhed  to  cover 
the  chief  with  her  fhield ;  but  a  fallen  oak  met 
her  fteps.  She  fell  on  her  arm  of  fnow ;  her 
fhield,  her  helmet  flew  wide.  Her  white  bofom 
heaved  to  the  fight  j  her  dark-brown  hair  is 
fpread  on  earth. 

FiNGAL  pitied  the  white-armed  naaid:  he 
flayed  the  uplifted  fword.  The  tear  was  in  the 
eye  of  the  king,  as,  bending  forward,  he  fpoke. 
King  of  flrcamy  Sora  !  fear  not  the  fword  of 
Fingal.  It  was  never  ftained  with  the  blood  of 
the  vanquiflied  j  it  never  pierced  a  fallen  foe. 
Let  thy  people  rejoice  along  the  blue  waters  of 
Tora  :  let  the  maids  of  thy  love  be  glad.  Why 
fliouldefl  thou  fall  in  thy  youth,  kilig  of  ftreamy 
Sora  ? 

Froth  A  L  heard  the  words  of  Fingal  j,  and 
faw  the  rifing  maid  :  they  *  flood  in  filence,  in 
their  beauty  :  like  two  young  trees  6f  the  plain, 
when  the  fhower  of  fpring  is  on  their  leaves,  and 
the  loud  winds  are  laid. 

Daughter  of  Herman,  faid  Frothal,  didft 
thou  come  from  Tora's  ftreams ;  didft  thou 
come,  in  thy  beauty,  to  behold  thy  warrior 
low  ?  But  he  was  low  _  before  the  mighty,  maid 

•  Froihal  and  Utha. 

of 


284       C  A  R  R  I  C-T  H  U  R  A: 

of  the  flow-rolling  eye  !  The  feeble  did  not 
overcome  the  fon  of  car-borne  Annir.  Terrible 
art  thou,  O  king  of  Morven !  in  battles  of  the 
fpear.  But,  in  peace,  thou  art  like  the  fun, 
when  he  looks  through  a  filent  Ihower :  the 
flowers  lift  their  fair  heads  before  htm  ;  and  the 
gales  fhake  their  ruftling  wings.  O  that  thou 
wert  in  Sora  !  that  my  feaft  were  fprcad  !— The 
future  kings  of  Sora  would  fee  thy  arms  and  re- 
joice, lliey  would  rejoice  at  the  fame  of  their 
fathers,  who  beheld  the  mighty  Fingal. 

Sox  of  Annir,  replied  the  king,  the  fame  of 
Sora's  race  fhall  be  heard.— When  chiefs  are 
ftrong  in  battle,  then  does  the  fong  arife !  But  if 
their  fwords  are  ftretched  over  the  feeble  :  if  the 
blood  of  the  wTak  has  fiained  their  arms  -,  the 
,  bard  fliall  forget  them  in  tlie  fong,  and  their 
tombs  fliall  not  be  known.  'I'he  llranger  fhall 
come  and  build  there,  and  remove  the  heaped- 
np  earth.  An  half-worn  fword  fhall  rife  before 
Jiim;  and  bending  above  it,  he  will  fay,  "  Thefe 
"  are  the  arms  of  chiefs  of  old,  but  their  names 

'*  are  not  in  fong." Come  thou,  O  Frothal, 

to  the  feafl  of  Iniftorc  ;  let  the  maid  of  thy 
love  be  there  j  and  our  faces  will  brighten  with 

Fingal  took  his  fpear,  moving  in  the  fteps 
of  his  might.     The  gates  of  Carric-thura  arc 

opened. 


A       POEM*  «^$ 

opened.  The  feaft  of  ihells  is  fpread. — The 
yoice  of  muiic  arofe.     Gladnefs  brightened  in 

the  hall. ^The  voice  of  Ullin  was  heard  ;  the 

harp  of  Selma  was  ftrung. — Utha  rejoiced  in  his 
prefence,  and  demanded  the  fong  of  grief;  the 
big  tear  hung  in  her  eye,  when  the  foft  *  Cri- 
<mora  fpoke."  Crimora  the  daughter  of  Rinval, 
who  dwelt  at  Lotha's  f  mighty  ftream.  The 
tale  was  long,  but  lovely ;  and  pleafed  the 
blulhing  maid  of  Tora. 

Crimora  J. 

Who  Cometh  from  the  hill,  like  a  cloud 
tinged  with  the  beam  of  the  weft  ?  Whofe  voice 
is  that,  loud  as  the  wind,  but  pleafant  as  the 
harp  of  Carril  ?  §  It  is  my  love  in  the  light  of 
fteel;  but  lad  is  his  darkened  brow.     Live  thfc 

*  There  is  a  propriety  in  introducing  this  epifbde,  as  theiltoa- 
tions  of  Crimora  and  Utha  were  fo  fimilar. 

-}■  Lotha  was  the  ancient  name  of  one  of  the  great  rivers  ni 
the  north  of  Scotland.  The  only  one  of  them  that  (till  retains  « 
name  of  a  like  found  is  Lochy,  in  Invernefsfhirc  ;  but  whether  it 
is  the  river  mentioned  here,  the  trandator  will  not  pretend  t« 
fay. 

J  Cri-mdra,  a  lucn^an  nf  a  great  foul. 

§  Perhaps  the  Carril  mentioned  here  is  the  fame  with  CarrS. 
the  fon  of  Kinfcna,  CuchuUin's  bard.  The  name  itfelf  is  pro- 
per to  any  bard,  as  it  fignif'es  a/prightlj  ard  harmonious  found. 

mighty 


286       C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A : 

mighty  race  of  Fingal  ?  or  what  difturbs  my 
Connal  ?  * 

CONNAL. 

They  live.  I  faw  them  return  from  the 
chace,  like  a  ftream  of  light.  The  fun  was  on 
their  ihields.  Like  a  ridge  of  fire  they  de- 
fccnded  the  hill.  Loud  is  the  voice  of  the 
youth  J  the  war,  my  love,  is  near.  To-morrow 
the  terrible  Dargo  comes  to  try  the  force  of  our 
race.  The  race  of  Fingal  he  defies ;  the  race  of 
battle  and  wounds. 

Crimora. 

Connal,  I  faw  his  fails  like  gray  mift  on  the 
fable  wave.  They  flowly  came  to  land.  Con- 
nal, many  are  the  warriors  of  Dargo ! 

Connal. 

Bring  me  thy  father's  fliield  j  the  bofly,  iron 
fhield  of  Rinval ;  that  ihield  like  the  full  moon 
when  it  moves  darkened  through  heaven. 

♦  Connal,  the  Ton  of  Diaran,  was  one  of  the  moft  famous 
heroes  (.1  Fingal ;  he  was  flain  in  a  battle  againll  Dargo  a  Briton ; 
but  whether  by  the  hand  of  the  enemy,  or  that  of  his  miftrefs, 
tradition  does  nut  determine. 

Crimora; 


A       P    O     E    M.  287 

Crimora. 

That  fliield  I  bring,  O  Connal ;  but  it  did 
not  defend  my  father.  By  the  fpear  of  Gorniar 
he  fell.     Thou  may 'ft  fall,  O  Connal ! 

Conn  A  L. 

Fall  indeed  I  may:  But  raife  my  tomb, 
Crimora.  Gray  ftones,  a  mound  of  earth,  fhall 
keep  my  memory.  Bend  thy  red  eye  over  my 
tomb,  and  beat  thy  mournful  heaving  breaft. 
Though  fair  thou  art,  my  love,  as  the  light; 
more  plcafant  than  the  gale  of  the  hill  j  yet  I 
will  not  ftay.     Raife  my  tomb,  Crimora. 

Crimora. 

Then  give  me  thofe  arms  of  light;  that 
fword,  and  that  fpear  of  ft  eel.  I  ftiall  meet 
Dargo  with  thee,  and  aid  my  lovely  Connal. 
Farcwel,  ye  rocks  of  Ardven  !  ye  deer!  and  ye 
ftreams  of  the  hill  ! — We  fhall  return  no  more. 
Our  tombs  are  diftant  far. 

And  did  they  return  no  more?  faid  Utha's 
burfting  figh.  Fell  the  mighty  in  battle,  and 
did  Crimora  live  ? — Her  fteps  were  lonely,  and 
her  foul  was  fad  for  Connal.  Was  he  not  young 
and  lovely  ;  like  the  beam  of  the  fetting  fun  ? 
UUin  faw  the  virgin's  tear,  and  took  the  foftly- 

trembling 


£88       CARRIC-THURA: 

trembling  harp  ;  the  fong  was  lovely,  but  fad, 
and  filence  was  in  Carric-thura. 

Autumn  is  dark  on  the  mountains;  gray 
mift  refts  on  the  hills.  The  whirlwind  is  heard 
on  the  heath.  Dark  rolls  the  river  through  the 
narrow  plain.  A  tree  ftands  alone  on  the  hill, 
and  marks  the  llumbering  Connal.  The  leaves 
whirl  round  with  the  wind,  and  ftrew  the  grave 
of  the  dead.  At  times  are  fecn  here  the  ghofts  of 
the  deceafed,  when  the  mufmg  hunter  alone 
ftalks  flowly  over  the  heath. 

Who  can  reach  the  fource  of  thy  race,  O 
Connal  ?  and  who  recount  thy  fathers  ?  Thy 
family  grew  like  an  oak  on  the  mountain,  which 
meeteth  tlie  wind  with  its  lofty  head.  But  now 
it  is  torn  from  the  eartli.  Who  fhall  fupply  the 
place  of  Oonnal  ? 

Here  was  the  din  of  arms ;  and  here  the 
groans  of  the  dying.  Bloody  are  the  wars  of 
Fin  gal  !  O  Connal  !  it  was  here  thou  didft  falL 
Thine  arm  was  like  a  ftorm  j  thy  fword  a  beam- 
of  the  iky ;  thy  heiglit,  a  rock  on  the  plain ; 
thine  eyes,  a  furnace  of  fire.  Louder  than  a 
ftorm  was  thy  voice,  in  the  battles  of  thy  fleel. 
Warriors  fell  by  thy  fword,  as  the  thiflle  by  the 
ftaff  of  a  boy. 

Dargo  the  mighty  came  on,  like  a  cloud  of 
thunder.     His  brows  were  contraded  and  dark. 

His 


A       POEM;  289 

His  eyes  like  two  caves  in  a  rock.  Bright  rofe 
their  fwords  on  each  fide  j  dire  was  the  clang  of 
their  fteel. 

The  daughter  of  Rinval  was  near ;  Crimor^ 
bright  in  the  armour  of  man  ;  her  yellow  hair  is 
loofe  behind,  her  bow  is  in  her  hand.  She  fol- 
lowed the  youth  to  the  war,  Connal  her  much- 
beloved.  She  drew  the  firing  on  Dargo,;  but 
erring  pierced  her  Connal.  He  falls  like  an  oak 
on  the  plain ;  like  a  rock  from  the  Ihaggy  hill. 
What  fhall  Ihe  do,  haplefs  maid  !— He  bleeds ; 
her  Connal  dies.  All  the  night  long  Ihe  cries, 
and  all  the  day,  O  Connal,  my  love,  and  my 
friend !  With  grief  the  fad  mourner  dies. 

Earth  here  inclofes  the  lovclieft  pair  on  the 
hill.  The  grafs  grows  between  the  ftones  of  the 
tomb  ;  I  often  fit  in  the  mournful  Ihade.  The 
wind  lighs  through  the  grafs ;  their  memory 
Jrulhes  on  my  mind.  Undifturbed  you  now  fleep 
together  $  in  the  tomb  of  the  mountain  you  reft 
alone. 

And  foft  be  your  reft,  faid  Utha,  children  of 
ftreamy  Lotha.  I  will  remember  you  with  tears, 
and  my  fecret  fong  Ihall  rife  ;  when  The  wind  is  " 
in  the  groves  of  Tora,  and  the  ftream  is  roaring 
near.  Then  ftiall  ye  come  On  my  foul,  with  all 
your  lovely  grief.  ' 

U  ThR££ 


^6       C  A  R  R  I  C  -  T  H  U  R  A. 

Three  days  feafled  the  kings :  on  the  fourth 
their  white  fails  arofe.  The  winds  of  the  north 
Carry  the  fhip  of  Fingal  to  Morven's  woody  land. 
But  tlie  fpirit  of  Loda  fat,  in  his  cloud,  be- 
hind the  flnps  of  Frothal.  He  hung  forward 
with  all  his  blafts,  and  fpread  the  white-bofomed 
fails. The  wounds  of  his  form  were  not  for- 
got ;  he  flill  feared  *  the  hand  of  the  king. 


*  The  ftory  of  Fingal  and  the  fpirit  of  Loda,  fuppofed  W  be 
the  famous  Odin,  is  the  moft  extravagant  fidlion  in  all  Offiary's 
poems.  Jt  is  not,  however,  without  precedents  in  the  beil 
poets ;  and  it  mnft  be  fai  J  for  Oflian,  that  he  fays  nothing  but 
what  perfectly  agreed  with  ihc  notions  of  the  times,  concerning 
ghofts.  They  thought  the  fouls  oi  the  dead  were  material,  .and 
confequently  fufceptible  of  pain.  Whether  a  proof  could  be 
drawn  from  this  paflage,  that  Ofuan  had  no  notion  of  a  divinity, 
I  fliall  leave  to  others  to  determine  :  it  appears,  however,  that  he 
vas  of  opinion,  that  fupericr  btings  ought  to  take  no  notice  of 
v.hat  paficd  among  men. 


T  H  £ 


t  291  ] 


THE 


SONGS    of  SELMA^. 


STAR  of  the  defcendliig  night!  fair  is  thy 
Jight  in  the  weft !  thou  lifteft  thy  unfhorn 
head  from  thy  cloud  :  thy  fteps  are  ftately  on 
thy  hill.  What  doft  thou  behold  in  the  plain  ? 
The  ftormy  winds  are  laid.  The  murmur  of  the 
torrent  comes  from  afar.  Roaring  waves  climb 
the  diftant  rock.     The  flies  of  evening  are  on 

*  This  poem  fixes  the  antiquity  of  a  cuflom,  which  is  well 
known  to  have  prevailed  afterwards,  in  the  north  of  Scotland, 
and  in  Ireland.  The  bards,  at  an  annual  feaft,  provided  by  the 
king  or  chief,  repeated  their  poems,  and  fuch  of  them  as  were 
thought,  by  him,  worthy  of  being  preferved,  were  carefully 
taught  to  their  children,  in  order- to  have  them  tranfmitted  to 

poflerjty. It  was  one  of  thofe  occafions  that  afforded  the  fub- 

jeft  of  the  prefcnt  poem  to  Ofiian. — It  is  called  in  the  original. 
The  Songs  of  Selma,  which  title  it  was  thought  proper  to  adcp: 
in  the  tranflation. 

The  poem  is  entirely  lyric,  and  has  great  variety  of  verfifica- 
tion.  The  addrefs  to  the  evening  ftar,  with  which  it  opens,  has^ 
in  the  original,  all  the  l^armony  that  numbers  could  give  it } 
flowing  down  with  all  that  tranquillity  and  foftnefs,  which  the 
fccne  defcribed  naturally  infpires. — Three  of  the  fongs  which  are 
introduced  in  this  piece,  were  publilhed  among  the  fragments  of 
ancient  poetry,  printed  laft  year. 

U  %  their 


292       The  SONGS  of  SELMA* 

their  feeble  wings,  and  the  hum  of  their  courfc 
is  on  the  field.  What  doft  thou  behold,  fair 
light?  But  thou  doft  fmile  and  depart.  The 
waves  come  with  joy  around  thee,  and  bathe  thy 
lovely  hair.  Farewel,  thou  filent  beam! — Let 
the  light  of  Oilian's  foul  arife. 

And  it  does  arife  in  its  ftrength!  I  behold  my 
departed  friends.     Their  gathering  is  on  Lora, 

as  in  the  days  that  are  paft. Fingal  comes 

like  a  watry  column  of  mift ;  his  heroes  are 
around.  And  fee  the  bards  of  the  fong,  gray- 
haired  Ullln;  ftately  Ryno ;  Alpin  *,  with  the 
tuneful  voice,  and  the  foft  complaint  of  Mi- 

nona! How  are   ye   changed,    my  friends, 

fmce  the  days  of  Selma's  feaft  !  when  we .  con- 
tended, like  the  gales  of  the  fpring,  that,  fly- 
ing over  the  hill,  by  turns  bend  the  feebly- 
whiftling  grafs. 

Mi  NO  \' A  then  came  forth  in  her  beauty; 
with  down-caft  look  and  tearful  eye;  her  hair 
flew  flowly  on  the  blaft  that  ruflied  unfrequent 

*  Alpin  is  from  the  fame  root  with  Albion,  or  rather  Albin, 
the  ancier.t  name  of  Eritain  ;  Alp,  high  in  land,  or  coun-ry. 
The  prefent  name  of  our  ifland  has  its  origin  in  the  Celtic 
lorgue  ;  fo  that  thofe  who  derived  it  from  any  other,  betrayed 

their  ignorance  of  the  ancient  language  of  our  country. ■- 

Friir.ii.  comes  from  B'eac't  it?,  'variegated  ijland,  fo  called  from 
the  face  of  the  country,  from  the  natives  painting  themfelves,  or 
from  their  party-coloured  deaths. 

from 


The  songs  of  SELMA.      293 

from  the  hill. The  fouls  of  the  heroes  were 

fad  when  Die  raifed  the  tuneful  voice ;  for  often 
had  they  feen  the  grave  of  Salgar  *,  and  the 
dark  dwelling  of  white-bofomed  Colma  'f.  Col- 
ma  left  alone  on  the  hill,  with  all  her  voice  of 
mufic  !  Salgar  promifed  to  come :  but  the  night 
4efcended  round. — Hear  the  voice  of  Colma, 
when  ihe  fat  alone  on  the  hill  I 

Colma. 

It  is  night; — I  am  alone,  forlorn  on  the  hill 
of  ftorms.  The  wind  is  heard  in  tlie  mountain. 
Tlie  torrent  fhricks  down  the  rock.  ISIo  hut  re- 
ceives me  from  the  rain  ;  forlorn  on  the  hill  of 
winds. 

Rise,  moon!  from  behind  thy  clouds  j  ftars 
of  the  night  appear !  Lead  me,  fome  light,  to 
the  place  where  my  love  refts  from  the  toil  of 
the  chace !  his  bow  near  him,  unft^ung  j  his 
dogs  panting  arpund  him.  But  here  I  muft  fit 
alone,  by  the  rock  of  the  molTy  ftream.  The 
ftream  and  the  wind  roar;  nor  can  I  hear  the 
voice  of  my  love. 

Why  delays  my  Salgar,  why  the  fon  of  the 
hill,  his  promifc?  Here  is  the  rock,  and  the 
tree;  and  here  the  roaring  ftrcam.     Thou  didft 

•  Sealg-'er,  a  hunter. 

•\  Cul-tnath,  a  •v.omaa  iviih  fine  hair, 

U  3  promifc 


294      The  SONGS   of  SELMA,' 

promlfe  with  night  to  be  here.  Ah!  whither  Is 
my  Salgar  gone  ?  With  thee  I  would  fly,  my  fa- 
ther ;  with  thee,  my  brother  of  pride.  Our 
race  have  long  been  foes  j  but  we  are  not  foes, 

0  Salgar ! 

-  Cease  a  little  while,  O  wind !  flream,  be  thou 
fjlent  a  while !  let  my  voice  be  heard  over  the 
heath ;  let  my  wanderer  hear  me.     Salgar*!  it  Is 

1  who  call.  Here  is  the  tree,  and  the  rock. 
Salgar,  my  love!  I  am  here.  Why  delayeft 
thou  thy  coming? 

Lo!  the  moon  appeareth.  The  flood  Is 
bright  in  the  vale.  The  rocks  are  grey  on  the 
face  of  the  hill.  But  I  fee  him  not  on  the  brow 5 
his  dogs  before  him  tell  |iot  that  he  is  coming. 
Here  I  muft  fit  alone. 

But  who  are  thefe  that  lie  beyond  me  on  the 
heath  ?  Are  they  my  love  and  my  brother  ?— Speak 
to  me,  O  my  friends !  they  anfwer  not.    My  foul 

is  tormented  with  fears. Ah  !  they  are  dead. 

Their  fwords  are  red  from  the  fight.  O  my  bro-^ 
ther !  my  brother !  why  hafl  thou  flain  my  Sal- 
gar? why,  O  Salgar!  haft  thou  flain  my  bro- 
ther ?  Dear  were  ye  both  to  me !  what  iTiall  I-fay 
in  your  praife  ?  Thou  wert  fair  on  the  hill 
among  thoufands;  he  was  terrible  in  fight. 
Speak  to  me ;  liear  my  voice,  fons  of  my  loVe  } 

But 


•~    The   songs  of  SELMA,       295 

But  alas!  they  are  filent;  filent  for  ever!  Colcl 
are  their  breafts  of  clay  ! 

Oh  !  from  the  rock  of  the  hill ;  from  the  top 
of  the  windy  mountain,  fpcak  ye  ghofls  of  the 
dead !  fpeak,  I  will  not  be  afraid. — Whither  are 
ye  gone  to  reft  ?  In  what  cave  of  the  hill  lliall 
I  lind  you  ?  No  feeble  voice  is  on  the  wind  : 
no  anfwer  half-drowned  in  the  ftorms  of  the 
hill. 

1  SIT  in  my  grief.  I  wait  for  morning  in  my 
tears.  Rear  the  tomb,  ye  friends  of  the  dead ; 
but  clofe  it  not  till  Colma  come.  My  life  flies 
away  like  a  dream  :  why  Ihould  I  ftay  behind  ? 
Here  fiiall  I  reft  with  my  friends,  by  tlie  ftream 
of  the  founding  rock.  When  night  comes  on 
the  hill;  when  the  wind  is  on  the  heath;  my 
ghoft  fhall  ftand  in  the  wind,  and  mourn  the 
death  of  nly  friends.  The  hunter  Ihall  hear 
from  his  booth.  He  (liall  fear  but  love  my 
voice.  For  fwect  ftiall  my  voice  be  for  my 
friends  ;  for  pleafant  were  ihey  both  to  me. 

Such  was  thy  fong,  Minona  foftly-blulhing 
maid  of  Torman.  Our  tears  defccndcd  for 
Colma,  and  our  fouls  were  fad. — Ullin  came 
with  the  harp,  and  gave  the  fong  of  Alpin.— » 
The  voice  of  Alpin  was  pleafant :  the  foul  of 
Ryno  was  a  beam  of  fire.  But  they  had  refted 
in  the  narrow  houfe :  and  their  voice  was  not 

U  4  heard 


^96      The  songs  of  SELMA; 

heard  in  Selma. — r— UUin  had  returned  one  day 
from   the  chace,  before   the  heroes   felL     He 
heard  their  ftrifc  on   the  hill ;  their  fong  was 
foft  but  fad.     They  moiirned  the  fall  of  Morar, 
firft  of  mortal  men.     His  foul  was  like  the  foul 
of  Fingal  j  his  fword  like  the  fword  of  Ofcar.— 
But  he  fell,  and  his  father  mourned  :  his  Mer's 
eyes  were  full  of  tears. — — -Mlnona's  eyes  were 
full  of  tears,    the   fifter   of  car-borne   Morar. 
She  retired  from  the   fong  of  UUin,  like  the 
moon  in  the  weft,  when  fhe  forefees  the  fhower, 
-and  hides  her  fair  head  in  a  cloud.— -I  touched 
the  harp,  with  UUin  5  the  fong   of  mourning 
rofe. 

Ryno. 

The  wipd  and  the  rain  are  over  :  calm  is  thp 
noon  of  day.  The  clouds  are  divided  in  heaven. 
Over  the  green  hills  flies  the  inconftant  fuq. 
Red  through  the  ftony  vale  comes  down  the 
ftream  of  the  hill.  Sweet  are  thy  murmurs,  Q 
flream  !  but  more  fweet  is  the  voice  I  hear.  It 
is  the  voice  of  Alpin,  the  fon  of  fong,  mourning 
for  the  dead.  Bent  is  his  head  of  age,  and  red 
his  tearful  eye.  Alpin,  thou  fon  of  fong,  why 
alone  on  the  filent  hill  ?  why  complaijieft  thou, 
gs  a  blafl  in  the  wood ,  as  a  wave  on  the  lonely 
fhpre  ? 

Alpin, 


^^'he  SONqS  ©F  SELMA.      297 

Alpin. 

My  tears,  O  Ryno !  are  for  the  dead ;  my 
voice,  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  grave.  Tall 
thou  art  on  the  hill  j  fair  among  the  fons  of  the 
plain.  But  thou  llialt  fall  like  Morar  *  ^  and  the 
mourner  Ihall  fit  on  thy  tomb.  The  hills  fhall 
know  thee  no  more  -,  thy  bow  Ihall  lie  in  the 
hall,  unftrung. 

Thou  wert  fwift,  O  Morar  !  as  a  roe  on  the 
hill}  terrible  as  a  meteor  of  fire.  Thy  wrath 
was  as  the  ftorm.  Thy  fword  in  battle,  as 
lightning  in  the  field.  Thy  voice  was  like  a 
ftream  after  rain  ;  like  thunder  on  difiant  hills. 
Many  fell  by  thy  arm  5  they  were  confumed  'm 
the  flames  of  thy  wrath. 

But  when  thou  didft  return  from  war,  hovr 
peaceful  was  thy  brow  !  Thy  face  was  like  the 
fun  after  rain  -,  like  the  moon  in  the  filence  of 
night ;  calm  as  the  breaft  of  the  lake  when  the 
Joud  wind  is  laid. 

Narrow  is  thy  dwelling  now ;  dark  the  place 
of  thine  abode.     With  three  fteps  I  compafs  thy 
grave,  O  thou  who  waft  fo  great  before  !  Four- 
ilones,  with  their  heads  of  mofs,  are  the  only 
memorial  of  thee.     A  tree  with  fcarce  a  leaf, 

•  Mdr-er,  great  man, 

4  long 


29?      The  SONGS   of   SELMA.' 

long  grafs  which  whittles  in  the  wind,  mark  to 
the  hunter's  eye  the  grave  of  the  mighty  Morar. 
Morar!  thou  art  low  indeed.  Thou  haft  no 
mother  to  mourn  thee  ;  no  maid  with  her  tears 
of  love.  Dead  is  flie  that  brought  thee  forth. 
Fallen  is  the  daughter  of  Morglan. 

Who  on  his  ftaff  is  this  ?  who  is  this,  whofe 
head  is  white  with  age,  whofe  eyes  are  red  with 
tears,  who  quakes  at  every  ftep.— It  is  thy  fa- 
ther *,  O  Morar !  the  father  of  no  fon  but  thee. 
He  heard  of  thy  fame  in  battle  ;  he  heard  of  foes 
difperfed.  He  heard  of  Morar's  fame ;  why  did 
he  not  hear  of  his  wound  ?  Weep,  thou  father 
of  Morar  !  weep  j  but  thy  fon  heareth  thee  not. 
Deep  is  the  Deep  of  the  dead ;  low  their  pillow 
of  duft.  No  more  fhall  he  hear  thy  voice  j  no 
more  fhall  he  awake  at  thy  call.  When  fliall  it 
be  morn  in  the  grave,  to  bid  the  flumberer^ 
awake  ? 

Farewel,  thou  bra  veft  of  men!  thou  con- 
queror in  the  field !  but  the  field  Iball  fee  thee  no 
more  ;  nor  the  dark  w*ood  be  lightened  with  the 
fplendor  of  thy  fteel.  Thou  haft  left  no  fon. 
But  the  fong  fhall  preferve  thy  name.  Future 
times  fhall  hear  of  thee  j  they  ihall  hear  of  the 
fallen  Morar. 

*  Torman,  the  fon  of  Carthul,  lord  of  I-mora,  one  of  the 
wellern  ifles. 

9  Th^ 


The  songs  of   SELMA.      29^ 

The  grief  of  all  arofe,  but  thoft  the  burfting 
figh  of  Armln  *.  He  remembers  the  death  of 
his  fon,  who  fell  in  the  days  of  his  youth. 
Carmor  "t*  was  near  the  hero,  the  chief  of  the 
echoing  Galmal.  Why  burfts  the  figh  of  Ar- 
in  in,  he  faid  ?  Is  there  a  caufe  to  mourn  ?  The 
fong  comes,  with  its  mufic,  to  melt  and  pleafe 
the  foul.  It  is  like  foft  mift,  that,  rifmg  from  a 
lake,  pours  on  the  filent  vale  ;  the  green  flowers 
are  filled  with  dew,  but  the  fun  returns  in  his 
ftrength,  and  the  mift  is  gone.  Why  art  thou 
fad,  O  Armin,  chief  of  fea-furrounded  Gorma  ? 
•'Sad!  I  am  indeed:  nor  fmall  my  caufe  of 
woe ! — Carmor,  thou  haft  loft  no  fon  j  thou 
haft  loft  no  daughter  of  beauty.  Colgar  the  va- 
liant lives;  and  Annira  faireft  maid.  The 
boughs  of  thy  family  flourifh,  O  Carmor !  but 
Armin  is  the  laft  of  his  race.  Dark  is  thy  bed, 
O  Daura !  and  deep  thy  flcep^in  the  tomb.— 
When  flialt  thou  awake  with  thy  fongs  ?  with  all 
thy  voice  of  mufic  ?  ' 

Rise,  winds  of  autumn,  rife-;  blow  upon  the 
dark  heath!  ftreams  of  the  mountains,  roar! 
howl,  ye  tempefts,  in  the  top  q^  the  oak !  walk 
through  broken  clouds,  O  moon  !  ihow  by  in- 

*  Armin,  a  hero.     He   was  chief  or  petty  king  of  Gorma, 
ik.  e.  the  blue  ijlaud,  fuppofcd  to  be  one  of  the  Hebrides, 
t  Cear-mor,  a  tall  dark-com^kxiontd man, 

tervals 


joo      The  SONGS  of  SELMA. 

tervals  thy  pale  face !  bring  to  my  mind  that  fad 
night,  when  all  my  children  fell ;  when  Arindal 
the  mighty  fell ;  when  Daura  the  lovely  failed. 

Daura,  my  daughter!  thou  w^rt  fair;  fair 
as  the  moon  on  the  hills  of  Fura* ;  white  as  the 
driven  fnow;  fweet  as  the  breathing  gale. 
Arindal,  thy  bow  was  ftrong,  thy  fpcar  was  fwift 
in  the  field :  thy  look  was  like  mift  on  the  wave  5 
thy  fhield,  a  red  cloud  in  a  ftorm.  Armar,  re- 
nowned in  war,  came,  and  fought  Daura's  lovp; 
he  was  not  long  denied  j  fair  was  the  hope  of 
their  friends. 

Erath,  fon  of  Odgal,  repined  ;  for  his  bro- 
tlier  was  flain  by  Armar.  He  came  difguifed 
like  a  fon  of  the  fea :  fair  was  his  Ikiif  on  the 
wave  ;  white  his  locks  of  age  ;  calm  his  ferious 
brow.  Faireft  of  women,  he  faid,  lovely 
daughter  of  Armin !  a  rock  not  diftant  in  the 
fea,  bears  a  tree  on  its  fide  ;  red  fhines  the  fruit 
afar.  There  Armar  waits  for  Daura.  I  came  to 
carry  his  love  along  the  rolling  fea. 

She  went;  andlhe  called  on  Armar.  Nought 
anfwered,  but  the  fon  ■f  of  the  rock.     Armar, 

*  Fuar-a,  cold  ijland. 

■\  By  the /on  of  the  rock  the  poet  means  the  echoing  back  of  the 
human  voice  from  a  rock.  The  vulgar  were  of  opinion,  that 
this  repetition  of  found  was  made  by  a  fpirit  within  the  rock ;  and 
ihey,  on  ihat  account,  called  it  mac-talla  j  the /on  ivbo  dwells  /4 

my 


The  songs  of  SELMA.       goi. 

my  love!  my  love!  why  tormenteft  thou  mc 
with  fear  ?  hear,  fon  of  Ardnart,  hear :  it  i^ 
Daura  who  calleth  thee  I  Erath  the  traitor  fled 
laughing  to  the  land;  She  lifted  up  her  voice, 
and  cried  for  her  brother  and  her  father.  Arin- 
dal !  Armin  !  none  to  relieve  your  Daura. 

Her  voice  came  over  the  fea.  Arindal  my 
fon  defcended  from  the  hill ;  rough  In  the  fpoils 
of  the  chace.  His  arrows  rattled  by  his  fide  ; 
his  bow  was  in  his  hand  :  five  dark  gray  dogs 
attended  his  fteps.  He  faw  fierce  Erath  on  the 
Ihore  :  he  feized  and  bound  him  to  an  oak. 
Thick  bend  the  thongs  *  of  the  hide  around  his 
limbs ;  he  loads  the  wind  with  his  groans. 

Arindal  afcends  the  wave  in  his  boat,  to 
bring  Daura  to  land.  Armar  came  in  his  wrath, 
and  let  fly  the  gray-feathered  Ihaft.  It  fung;  it 
funk  in  thy  heart,  O  Arindal  my  fon !  for 
Erath  the  traitor  thou  diedft.  The  oar  is  flopped 
at  once  j  he  panted  on  the  rock  and  expired. 
What  is  thy  grief,  O  Daura,  when  round  thy 
feet  is  poured  thy  brother's  blood. 

The  boat  is  broken  in  twain  by  the  waves. 
Armar  plunges  into  the  fea,  to  refcue  his  Daura, 
or  die.  Sudden  a  blaft  from  the  hill  comes  over 
the  waves.     He  funk,  and  he  rofc  no  more. 

;•    *   The  poet  here  only  means  that  Erath  was  bound  wich 
katbcrn  thongs. 

Alone, 


pz      The  songs  of   SELMA. 

Alone,,  on  the  fea-beat  rock,  my  daughter 
was  heard  to  complain.  Frequent  and  loud 
were  her  cries  j  nor  could  her  father  relieve  her. 
All  night  I  flood  on  the  fhore.  I  faw  her  by  the 
faint  beam  of  the  moon.  All  night  1  heard  her 
cries.  Loud  was  the  wind ;  and  the  rain  beat 
hard  on  the  fide  of  the  mountain.  Before  morn- 
ing appeared,  her  voice  was  weak.  It  died 
away,  like  the  evening-breeze  among  the  grafs 
of  the  rocks.  Spent  with  grief  fhe  expired. 
And  left  thee  Armin  alone :  gone  is  my  ftrength 
in  the  war,  and  fallen  my  pride  among  women. 

When  the  ftorms  of  the  mountain  come; 
when  the  north  lifts  the  waves  on  high  ;  1  fit  by 
the  founding  Ihorc,  and  look  on  the  fatal  rock.- 
Often  by  the  fetting  moon  I  fee  the  ghofts  of  my 
children.  Half-viewlefs,  they  walk  in  mournful 
conference  together.  Will  none  of  you  fpeak  in 
pity  ?  They  do  not  regard  their  father.  I  am 
fad,  O  Carmor,  nor  fmall  my  caufe  of  woe! 

Such  were  the  words  of  the  bards  in  the  days 
of  fong ;  when  the  king  heard  the  mufic  of  harps, 
•and  the  tales  of  other  times.  The  chiefs  ga- 
thered from  all  their  hills,  and  heard  the  lovely 
found.  They  praifed  the  voice  *  of  Cona  I  the 
firft  among  a  thoufand  bards*     But  age  is  now 

*  Cffian  is  fomctimcs  poetically  called  th  voice  of  Cona. 

Oft 


The  songs  of   SELMA.       303 

on  my  tongue;  and  my  foul  has  failed.  I  hear, 
fometimes,  the  ghofts  of  bards,  and  learn  their 
pleafant  fong.  But  memory  fails  in  my  mind; 
I  hear  the  call  of  years.  They  fay,  as  they  pafs 
along,  why  does  Ollian  ling  ?  Soon  Ihall  he  lie 
in  the  narrow  houfe,  and  no  bard  fliall  raife  his 
fame. 

Roll  on,  ye  dark-brown  years,  for  ye  bring 
no  joy  on  your  courfe.  Let  the  tomb  open  to 
Offian,  for  his  ftrength  has  failed.  The  fons  of 
fong  are  gone  to  reft  :  my  voice  remains,  like  a 
blaft,  that  roars,  lonely,  on  a  fea-furrounded 
rock,  after  the  winds  are  laid.  The  dark  mofs 
whiftlcs  there,  and  the  diftant  mariner  fees  the 
waving  trees. 


C  A  L  T  H  O  N 


[    304    J 

CALTHONand  COLMALi 
A       POEM*. 

PLEASANT   is   the  voice  of  thy  foag* 
thou  lonely  dweller  of  the  rock.     It  comes 
Cn  the  found  of  the  ftream,  along  the  narrow 

•  This  f  iece,  as  many  more  of  Offian's  compofidons,  is  ad- 
dreffedto  one  of  thefirftChriftian  miffionaries. — The  ftory  of  the 
poem  is  handed  down,  by  tradition,  thus — In  the  country  of 
the  Britons  between  the  walls,  two  chiefs  lived  in  the  days  of 
Fingal,  Dunthalmo,  lord  of  Teutha,  fuppofed  to  be  the  Tweed  ; 
and  Rathmor,  who  dwelt  at  Clutha,  well  known  to  be  the  river 

Clyde. Rathmor  was  not  more  renowned  for  his  generoftty 

and  hofpitality,  than  Dunthalmo  was  infamous  for  his  cruelty 
and  ambition. — Dunthalmo,  through  envy,  or  on  account  of 
fome  private  feuds,  which  fubfifted  between  the  families,  mur- 
dered Rathmor  at  a  feaft  ;  but  being  afterwards  touched  with  re- 
morfe,  he  educated  the  two  fons  of  Rathmor,  Calthon  and  Col- 
mar,  in  his  own  houfe. — They  growing  up  to  man's  ellate, 
dropped  fome  hints  that  they  intended  to  revenge  the  death  of 
their  father,  upon  which  Dunthalmo  fhutthem  up  in  two  caves 
on  the  banks  of  Teutha,  intending  to  take  them  off  privately^— 
Colmal,  the  daughter  of  Dunthalmo,  who  was  fecretly  in  love 
with  Calthon,  helped  him  to  make  his  efcape  from  prifon,  and 
fled  with  him  to  Fingal,  difguifed  in  the  habit  of  a  young  war* 
rior,  and  implored  his  aid  againft  Dunthalmo. — — Fingal  fent 
Ofiian  with  three  hundred  men,  to  Colmar's  relief. — Dunthalmo 
having  previoufly  murdered  Colmar,  came  to  a  battle  with  Offian  ; 
but  he  was  killed  by  that  hero,  and  his  army  totally  defeated. 

Calthon  married  Colmal,  his  deliverer;  and  Offian  returned 
to  Morven. 

vale. 


A       V    O    E   Mi  30^ 

«rale.  My  foul  awakes,  O  firanger  !  in  the 
tnidft  of  my  hall.  I  ftretch  my  hand  to  the 
fpear,  as  in  the  days  of  other  years. — 1  ftretch 
xny  hand,  but  it  is  feeble;  and  the  figh  of  my 
bofora  grows. — Wilt  thou  not  liften,  fon  of  the 
fock,  to  the  fong  of  Offian  ?  My  foul  is  full  of 
other  times ;  the  joy  of  my  youth  returns.  Thus 
the  fun  *  appears  in  the  well,  after  the  fteps  of 
ills  brightnefs  have  moved  behind  a  ftorm ;  the 
green  hills  lift  their  dewy  heads :  the  blue 
flreams  rejoice  in  the  vale^  The  aged  hero 
comes  forth  on  his  fiaff,  and  his  grey  hair  glit- 
ters in  the  beam. 

Dost  thou  not  beheld,  fon  of  the  rock,  t 
ihield  in  OiIian*s  hall?  It  is  marked  with  the 
ftrokes  of  battle  ;  and  the  brightnefs  of  its  boffes 
has  failed.  That  fhield  the  great  Dunthalmo 
bore,  the   chief  of  fireamy  Teutha. Dun- 

*  If  chance  the  radiant  fun  with  farewel  fwect 
Extend  his  evening  beam,  the  fields  revive. 
The  birds  their  notes  renew,  and  bleating  herds 
Attcft  their  joy,  that  hill  and  valley  rings. 

MiLTOtf* 
—The  fair  fan  fhine  in  fummer's  day; 
—When  a  dreadful  ftorm  away  is  flit 
Through  the  broad  world  doth  fpread  his  goodly  ray  ; 
At  iight  whereof  each  bird  that  fits  on  fpray. 
And  every  bead  that  to  hh  den  was  fled. 
Come  forth  afrefh  out  of  their  late  difmay. 
And  to  the  light  lift  up  their  drooping  head. 

SpenCIr.' 

X  thalm^ 


3o6      CALTHON  and  COLMAL: 

thalmo  bore  it  in  battle,  before  he  fell  by  Oflian*s 
fpear.  Liften,  fon  of  the  rock,  to  the  tale  of 
other  years.— 

Rathmor  was  a  chief  of  Clutha.  The  feeble 
dwelt  in  his  hall.  The  gates  of  Rathmor  were 
never  clofed ;  his  feaft  was  always  fpread.  The 
fons  of  the  ftranger  came,  and  blcfled  the  gene- 
rous chief  of  Clutha.  Bards  raifed  the  fong,  and 
touched  the  harp:  and  joy  brightened  on  the 
face  of  the  mournful.— Dunthalmo  came,  in  his 
pride,  and  ruihed  into  the  combat  of  Rathmor. 
The  chief  of  Clutha  overcame :  the  rage  of  Dun- 
thalmo rofe. — He  came,  by  night,  with  his  war- 
riors;  and  the  mighty  Rathmor  fell.  He  fell, 
in  his  halls,  where  his  feaft  was  often  fpread  for 
ftrangers. 

CoLMAR  and  Calthon  were  young,  the  fons 
of  car-borne  Rathmor.  They  came,  in  the  joy, 
of  youth,  into  their  father's  hall.  They  behold 
him  in  his  blood,  and  their  burfting  tears  de- 
fcend. — The  foul  of  Dunthalmo  melted,  when 
he  faw  the  children  of  youth  ;  he  brought  them 
to  Alteutha's  *  walls ;  they  grew  in  the  houfe  of 

*  Al-teutha,  or  rather  Balteutha,  thetownofTaueed,i\iQr\2m\t 
of  Dunthalmo's  feat.  It  is  obfervable  that  all  the  names  in  this 
poem,  a. e  derived  from  the  Galic  language;  which,  as  I  have 
remarked  in  a  preceding  note,  is  a  proof  that  it  wag  once  the 
univerfal  language  of  the  whole  ifland. 

their 


i^  -    A       P    O    E    M.  \  :       ^ 

their  foe.— They  bent  the  bow  In  his  prefence  y 
and  came  forth  to  his  battles.  ^      .!    -.. . nj 

They  faw  the  fallen  walls  of  th'efr  faihfefV^ 
they  faw  the  green  thorn  in  the  hall.  Theii^ 
tears  defcended"  in  fecretj  and,  at  times,  theii^ 
faces  were  mournful.  Dunthalmo  beheld  their 
grief:  his  darkenihg  foul  defigned  their  deatW 
He  clofed  them  in  two  caves,  on  the  echoing 
banks  of  Teutha.  The  fun  did  not  come  ther6 
with  his  beams ;  nor  the  moon  of  heaven  by 
night.  The  fons  of  Rathmor  remained  in  dark- 
nefs,  and  forefaw  their  death. 

The  daughter  of  Dunthalmo  wept  in  filencd^ 
the  fair-haired,  blue-eyed  Colmal  *.  Her  eye 
had  rolled  In  fecret  on  Calthon ;  his  lovelinefs 
fwelled  in  her  foul.  She  trembled  for  her  war- 
rior i  but  what  could  Colmal  do  ?  Her  arm 
could  not  lift  the  fpear;  nor  was  the  fword 
formed  for  her  fide.  Her  white  breaft  nevet  role 
beneath  a  mail.  Neither  was  her  ey6  the  terror 
of  heroes.  What  canft  thou  do,  O  Colmal !  for 
the  falling  chief  ?— -Her  fteps  are  unequal  j  hefr 
hair  is  loofe  :  her  eye  looks  wildly  through  her 

•  Caol-mhal,  a 'woman  ivilh /mall  eye. hrcnvs;  fmall  eye-brdvl's 
were  a  diftinguifhing  part  of  beauty  in  Oflian's  time  :  and  he  fri- 
dom  fails  to  give  them  to  the  fine  women  of  his  poems.  : 


^o«       CALTHON  afidCOLMAL: 

tears. — She  came,  by  night,  to  the  hall  *5  and 
armed  her  lovely  form  in  fteel ;  the  fteel  of  a 
young  waxrior,  who  fell  in  the  firft  of  his  bat- 
tles.— She  came  to  the  cave  of  Calthon,  and 
loofed  the  thong  from  his  hands. 

^RiSE,  fon  of  Rathmor,  Ihe  faid,  arife,  the 
liight  is  dark.  Let  us  fly  to  the  king  of  Selmaf, 
diief  of  fallen  Clutha !  I  am  the  fon  of  Lamgai, 
vfho  dwelt  in  thy  father's  hall.  I  heard  of  thy 
dark  dwelling  in  the  cave,  and  my  foul  arofc. 
,^ife,  fon  of  Rathmdr,  for  the  night  is  dark. 

Blest  voice!  replied  tTie  chief,  comeft  thou 
from  the  darkly-rolling  clouds?  for  often  the 
ghofts  of  his  fathers  defcend  to  Calthon*s  dreams, 
iince  the  fun  has  retired  from  his  eyes,  and 
darknefs  has  dwelt  around  him.  Or  art  thoU 
the  fon  of  Lamgal,  the  chief  1  often  faw  ift 
Clutha  ?  But  Ihall  I  fly  to  Flngal,  and  Colmar 
my  brother  low  ?  Shall  1  fly  to  Morven,  and 
the  hero  clofed  in  night  ?  No :  give  me  that 
fpear,  fon  oi  Lamgal,  Calthon  will  defend  his 
brother, 

•  That  IS,  the  hall  where  the  arms  taken  from  enemies  were 
hung  up  as  trophies.  Oflian  is  very  careful  to  make  his  (lories 
probable  ;  for  he  makes  Colmal  put  on  the  arms  of  a  youth  killed 
in  his  firft  battle,  as  more  proper  for  a  young  woman,  who  can- 
not be  fuppofed  ftrong  enough  to  carry  the  armour  of  a  fuII-> 
jrown  warrior, 

•f  Pingal^ 

A  THOU- 


A       P    O    E    M.  -  '         309 

A  THOUSAND  warriors,  replied  the  maid> 
Wretch  their  fpears  round  car-borne  Colmar, 
What  cw  CalthoH  do  againft  a  hoft  fo  great? 
Lef  us  fly  to  the  king  of  Morven,  he  will  come 
with  battle.  His  arm  is  ftretched  forth  to  the 
unhappy ;  the  lightning  of  his  fword  is  round 
the  weak. — Arife,  thou  fon  of  Rathmor  5  the 
Ihades  of  night  will  fly  away.  Dunthalmo  will 
behold  thy  fleps  on  the  field,  aiid  thou  muft  fall 
'  in  thy  youth. 

The  fighing  hero  rofej  his  tears  defcend  for 
car-borne  Colmar.  He  came  with  the  maid  to 
Selma's  hallj  but  he  knew  not  that  it  was  Col- 
mal.  The  helmet  cover'd  her  lovely  face ;  and 
her  breafl:  rofe  beneath  the  fleel.  Fingal  re- 
turned from  the  chace,  and  found  the  lovely 
firangers.  They  were  like  two  beams  of  light, 
in  the  midft  of  the  hall. 

The  king  heard  the  tale  of  grief;  and  turned 
his  eyes  around.  A  thoufand  heroes  half-rofe 
before  him;  claiming  the  war  of  Teutha. — I 
came  with  my  fpear  from  the  hill,  and  the  joy 
-  of  battle  rofe  in  my  breafl  :  for  the  king  fpoke 
to  Oflian  in  the  midft  of  the  people. 

Son  of  my  flrength,  he  faid,  take  the  fpear 
of  Fingal ;  go  to  Teutha's  mighty  ftream,  and 
fave  the  car-borne  Colmar. — Let  thy  fame  re- 
turn before  thee  like  a  pleafant  gale;  that  my 

X  s  foul 


310      CALTHON  and  COLMAL: 

foul  may  rejoice  over  my  fon,  who  renews  the 
renown  of  our  fathers. — Offian  !  be  thou  a  ftorm 
in  battle  ;  but  mild  when  the  foes  are  low!— It 
was  thus  my  fame  arofe,  O  my  fon;  and  be 
thou  like  Selma's  chief. — When  the  haughty 
come  to  my  halls,  my  eyes  behold  them  not. 
But  my  arm  is  ftretched  forth  to  the  unhappy. 
My  fword  defends  the  weak. 

I  REJOICED  in  the  words  of  the  king:  and 
took  my  rattling  arms.— DIaran  *  rofe  at  my 
fide,  and  Dargo  •f  king  of  fpears.— Three  hun- 
dred 

*  Diaran,  father  of  that  Connal  who  was  unfortunately  killed 
by  Crimora,  his  millrefs. 

t  Cargo,  the  fon  of  Collath,  is  celebrated  in  other  poems  by 
Offian.  He  is  faid  to  have  been  killed  by  a  boar  at  a  hunting 
party.  The  lamentation  of  his  miftrefs,  or  wife,  Mingala,  over 
bis  body,  is  extant ;  but  whether  it  is  of  OlTian's  compofition,  I 
cannot  determine.  It  is  generally  afcribed  to  him,  and  has  much 
of  his  manner  ;  but  fome  traditions  mention  it  as  an  imitation  by 
fome  later  bard.  'As  it  has  fome  poetical  merit,  I  have  fub- 
joinedit. 

''T'HE  fpoufe  of  Dargo  came  in  tears :  for  Dargo  was  no  more! 
The  heroes  figh  over  Lartho's  ciiief :  and  what  fhall  fad 
Mingala  do?  The  dark  foul  vanifhed  like  morning  mift,  before 
the  king  of  fpears :  but  the  generous  glowed  in  his  prefencelike 
the  morning  flar. 

Who  was  the  faireft  and  moft  lovely  ?  Who  but  Collath's 
flately  fon  ?  Who  fat  in  the  midft  of  the  wife,  but  Dargo  of  the 
mighty  deeds  ? 

Thy  hand  touched  the  trembling  harp  :  Thy  voice  was  foft  as 
fummer-winds. — Ah  me  !  what  fhall  the  heroes  fay?  for  Dargo 
fell  before  a  bear.    Pale  is  ihe  lovely-cheek  ;  the  look  of  which 

W4S 


A       POEM.  311' 

dred  youths  followed  our  fteps  :  the  lovely 
ftrangers  were  at  my  iide.  Dunthalmo.  heard 
the  found  of  our  approach ;  he  gathered  the 
firength  of  Teutha.-r-He  ftood  on  a  hill  with  his 
hofti  they  were  like  rocks  broken  with  thunder,  ^ 
when  their  bent  trees  are  finged  and  bare,  and 
the  ftreams  of  tlieir  chinks  have  failed. 

The  jftream  of  Teutha  rolled,  in  its  pride, ; 
before  the  gloomy  foe.     I  fent  a  bard  to  Dun-  - 
thalmo,  to  offer  the  combat  on  the  plain  j  but 
he  fmiled  in  the  darknefs  of  his  pride. — His  un-^ 
fettled  hoft  moved  on  the  hill ;  like  the  moun-i 
tain-rcloud,  when  the  blaft  has  entered  its  womb,; 
and  fcatters  the  curling  gloom  on  every  fide. 
•  They   brought  Colmar  to  Teutha's  bank, 
bound  with  a  thoufand  thongs.     The  chief  is 

was  firm  in  danger  ! — Why  haft  thou  failed  on  our  hills,  thou 
fairer  than  the  beams  of  the  fun  ? 

The  daughter  of  Adonfion  was  lovely  in  the  eyes  of  the  va- 
liant; ffie  was  lovely  in  their  eyes,  but  (he  chofe  to  be  the  fpoufe 
of  Dargo. 

But  thou  art  alone,  Mingala!  the  night  is  coming  with  its 
clouds ;  where  is  the  bed  of  thy  repofe  ?  Where  but  in  the  tomb 
of  Dargo  ? 

Why  doiT:  thou  lift  the  ftone,  O  bard  !  why  doft  thou  fhut  the 
narrow  houfe  ?  Mingala's  eyes  arc  heavy,  bard !  She  mull  flcep 
with  Dars-o. 

Laft  night  I  heard  the  fong  of  joy  in  Lartho's  lofty  halK 
But  filence  now  dwells  around  my  bed.  Mingala  refts  with 
Dargo. 

X  4  fad,' 


^Ti      CALTHON  and  COLMAL: 

fad,  but  lovely,  and  his  eye  is  on  his  friends  j 
for  we  flood,  in  our  arms,  on  the  oppofite  bank 
of  Teutha.  Dunthalmo  came  with  his  fpear, 
and  pierced  the  hero's  fide :  he  rolled  on  the 
t)ank  in  his  blood,  and  we  heard  his  broken 
fighs. 

Calthon  ruihed  into  theflrcam :  I  bounded 
forward  on  my  fpear.  Teutha's  race  fell  before 
us.  Night  came  rolling  down.  Punthalmo 
xefted  on  a  rock,  amidft  an  aged  wood.  The 
rage  of  his  bofom  burned  againft  the  car-borne 
Calthon. — But  Calthon  flood  in  his  grief;  he 
mourned  the  fallen  Colmar;  Cohnaar  ftain  in 
youth,  before  his  fame  arofe. 

1  BAPE  tlie  fong  of  woe  to  rife,  to  fpoth  th# 
mournful  chief  j  but  he  flood  beneath  a  tree, 
and  often  threw  his  fpear  on  earth. — The  humid 
eye  of  Colmal  rolled  near  in  a  fecret  tear :  flie 
forefaw  the  fall  of  Punthalmo,  or  of  Clutha's 
battling  chief. 

Now  half  the  night  had  pafled  away.  Silence 
and  darknefs  were  on  the  field;  fleep  refled  on 
the  eyes  of  the  heroes :  Calthon's  fettling  foul 
was  flill.  His  eyes  were  half-clofed;  but  the 
murmur  of  Teutha  had  not  yet  failed  in  his  ear. 

• Pale,  and  fhewing  his  wounds,  the  ghoft  of 

Colmar  came :  he  bended  his  head  over  the  hero, 
and  raifed  his  feeble  voice. 

Sleeps 


A     ,P    O    E    M.  3tj 

Sleeps  the  fon  of  Rathmor  uj  his  might,  aiwl 
his  brother  low  ?  Did  we  not  rife  to  the  chace 
together,  and  purfue  the  dark-brown  hiiads? 
Colmar  was  not  forgot  till  he  fell ;  till  death  had 
blaffed  his  youth.  I  lie  pale  beneath  the  rock 
of  Lona.  O  let  Calthon  rife!  the  morning 
comes  with  its  beams ;  and  Dunthahno  will  dif- 
Konour  the  fallen. 

He  paffed  away  in  his  blaft*  The  rifing  Cal- 
thon faw  the  ftcps  of  his  departure.— He  rufhed 
in  the  found  of  his  fteelj  and  unhappy  Colmal 
rofe.  She  followed  her  hero  through  night,  and 
dragged  her  fpear  behind. — But  when  Calthon 
came  to  Lona's  rock,  he  found  his  fallen  bro- 
ther—The rage  of  his  bofom  rofe,  and  he 
rufhed  among  the  foe.  The  groans  of  death 
afcend.  They  clofe  around  the  chief. — He  is 
bound  in  the  midft,  and  brought  to  gloomy 
Punthalmo. — The  ihout  of  joy  arofej  and  the 
hills  of  night  replied.—- 

I  STARTED  at  the  found:  and  took  my  fa- 
ther's fpear.  Diaran  rofe  at  my  fide  ;  and  tlie 
youthful  ftrength  of  Dargo.  We  miffed  the 
chief  of  Cluthai  and  our  fouls  were  i^d. — I 
dreaded  the  departure  of  my  fame  ;  the  pride  of 
my  valour  rofe. 

Sons  of  Morven,  I  faid,  it  is  not  thus  our  fa- 
thers fought.     They  refted  not  on  the  field  of 

ftrangers, 


314      CALTHON  and  COI^MAL: 

Grangers,  when  the  foe  did  not  fall  before  them, 

Their  ftrength  was  like  the  eagles  of  hea^l 

ven  5   their  renown   is  in  the  fong.     But  our 
people  fall  by  degrees,  and  our  fame  begins  to 

depart. What  fhall  the  king,  of  Morven  fay,. 

if  Oflian  conquers  not  at  Teutha?  Rife  in  your 
fteel,    ye  warriors,    and  follow  the  found   of 
Offian's  courfe.     He  will  not.  return,  but  re-, 
nowned,  to  the  echoing  walls  of  Selma. 

Morning  rofe  on  the  blue  waters  of  Teutha*: 
Colmal  flood  before  me  in  tears.  She  told  of 
the  chief  of  Clutha  :  and  thrice  the  fpear  fell 
from  her  hand.  My  wrath  turned  againft  the* 
flranger  ;  for  my  foul  trembled  for  Calthon.     . } 

Son  of  the  feeble  hand,  I  faid,.  doTeutha's 
warriors  fight  with  tears  ?  The  battle  is  not  woa 
with  grief ;  nor  dwells  ;.the  figh  in  the  foul  of; 
war. Go  to  the  deer  of  Carmun,  or  the  low- 
ing herds  of  Teutha.— But  leave  thefe  arms, 
thou  fon  of  fear ;  a  warrior  may  lift  them  in 
battle. .  ,  . 

I  TORE  the  mail  from  her  llioulders.  Her 
fnowy  breaft  appeared.  She  bent  her  red  face 
to  the  ground.— I  looked  in  filence  to  the 
chiefs.     The  fpear  fell  from  my  hand  ;  and  the 

figh  of  my  bofom  rofe. But  when  I  heard  the 

name  of  the  maid,  my  crowding  tears  defcended. 

I  blefled 


A       POEM.  315 

I  blefTed  the  lovely  beam  of  youth,  and  bade  the 
battle  move. 

Why,  fon  of  the  rock,  fhouIdOflian  tell  how 
Teutha's  warriors  died  ?  They  are  now  forgot 
in  their  land  j  and  their  tombs  are  not  found  on 
the  heath. — Years  came  on  with  their  tempefts; 
and  the  green  mounds  mouldered  away. — Scarce 
is  the  grave  of  Dunthalmo  feen,  or  the  place 
where  he  fell  by  the  fpear  of  Offian. — Some  gray 
warrior,  half  blind  with  age,  fitting  by  night  at 
the  flaming  oak  of  the  hall,  tells  now  my  ac- 
tions to  his  fons,  and  the  fall  of  the  dark  Dun- 
thalmo. The  faces  of  youth  bend  fidelong  to- 
wards his  voice;  furprize  and  joy  burn  in  their 
eyes. — 

I  FOUND  the  fon  *  of  Rathmor  bound  to  an 
oak  5  my  fword  cut  the  thongs  from  his  hands. 
And  I  gave  him  the  white-bofomed  Colmal.— - 
They  dwelt  in  the  halls  of  Teutha^  and  Offian 
returned  to  Selma. 

•  Calthon. 


L  A  T  H  M  O  N: 


C   3i6  3 

L   A   T   H    M    O    N; 

A      P    O    E    M*. 


SELMA,  thy  halls  arc  filent.  There  is  no 
found  in  the  woods  of  Morven.  The  wave 
tumbles  alone  on  the  coaft.  The  iilcnt  beam  of 
the  fun  is  on  the  field.  The  daughters  of  Mor» 
ven  come  forth,  like  the  bow  of  the  Ihower  5 
they  look  towards  green  Ullin  for  the  white  fails 
of  the  king.  He  had  promifed  to  return,  but 
the  winds  of  the  north  arofe. 

Who  pours  from  the  eaftern hill,  like  a  ftrcara 
of  darknefs  ?  It  is  the  hoft  of  Lathmpn,     He 

*  Lathmon  a  Britifh  prince,  taking  advantage  of  Fingal's  ab- 
fence  in  Ireland,  made  a  defcent  on  Morven,  and  advanced 
within  fight  of  Selma  the  royal  palace.  Fingal  arrived  in  the 
mean  time,  and  Lathmor  retreated  to  a  hill,  where  his  army 
was  furprifed  by  night,  and  himfelf  taken  prifoner  by  Offian  and 
Gaul  the  fon  of  Morni.  This  exploit  bf  Gaul  and  Offian  bears 
a  near  refemblance  to  the  beautiful  epifode  of  Nifus  and  Euryalui 
In  Virgil's  ninth  ^neid.  The  poem  opens,  with  the  firft  ap- 
pearance of  Fingal  on  the  coaft  of  Morven,  and  ends,  it  may  be 
fuppofed,  about  noon  the  next  day.  The  firft  paragraph  is  in  a. 
lyric  meafure,  and  appears  to  have  been  fung,  of  old,  to  the 
harp,  as  a  prelude  to  the  narrative  part  of  the  poem,  which  i» 
in  heroic  weik» 

has 


A       ?    O    E     M.  317 

has  heard  of  the  abfence  of  Fingal.  He  trufts  in 
the  wind  of  the  nortli.  His  foul  brightens  with 
joy.  Why  doft  thou  come,  Lathmon  ?  The 
mighty  are  not  in  Selma.  Why  comeft  thou 
with  thy  forward  fpear  ?  Will  fhe  daughters  of 
Morven  fight  ?  But  Hop,  O  mighty  ftream,  in 
thy  courfe !  Does  not  Lathmon  behold  thefc 
fails  ?  Why  doft  thou  vanifh,  Lathmbn;  like 
^c  mift  of  the  lake  ?  But  the  fqually  ftorm  Is 
behind  thee ;  Fingal  purfues  thy  fteps  !   ' 

The  king  of  Morven  i^arted  from  lleep,  as 
we  rolled  on  the  dark-blue  wave.  He  ftretched 
his  hand  to  his  fpear,  and  his  heroes  rofe 
around.  We  knew  that  he  had  feen  his  fathers, 
for  they  often  defcended  to  his  dreams,  when  the 
fword  of  the  foe  rofe  over  the  land  -,  and  the 
battle  darkened  before  us. 

WftiTH^R  haft  thou  fled,  O  wind,  faid  the 
king  of  Morven  ?  Doft  thou  xuftle  In  the 
chambers  pf  the  fouth,  and  purfue  the  fhower 
in  other  lands  ?  Why  doft  thou  not  come  to  my 
fails  ?  to  the  blue  face  of  my  feas  ?  The  foe  is  in 
the  iand  of  Morven,  and  the  king  is  abfent. 
But  let  each  bind  on  his  mail,  and  each  aflume 
Ws  (hield.  Stretch  every  fpear  over  the  wave ; 
let  every  fword  be  unlheathed.     Lathmon  *  is 

*  It  is  laid,    by  tradition,  that  it  was  the  intelligence  6f 

Lathrmn^s  invafion,  that  bccafioned  Fingars  return  from  Ire- 
land ;  though  CHTian,  hidre  |)OetJcally,  Stfoibes  the  caufe  of  Fm- 
g4r»  knowledge  to  his  dreaoir 

before 


^i8         L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 

before  us  with  his  hoft :  he  that  fled  *  from  Fin- 
gal  on  the  plains  of  Lona.  But  he  returns,  like 
a  collected  ftream,  and  his  roar  is  between  our 
Bills. 

Such  were  the  words  of  Fingal.  We  rulhed 
into  Carmona's  bay.  Offian  afcended  the  hill ; 
and  thrice  ftruck  his  bofly  fhield.  The  rock  of 
Morven  replied;  and  the  bounding  roes  came 
forth.  The  foes  were  troubled  in  my  prefence  i 
and  colleded  their  darkened  hoft ;  for  I  ftoodj 
like  a  cloud  on  the  hill,  rejoicing  in  the  arms  of 
my  youth. 

MoRNi  ■!•  fat  beneath  a  tree,  at  the  roaring 
waters  of  Strumon  + :  his  locks  of  age  are  gray : 
he  leans  forward  on  his  flaff ;  young  Gaul  is 
near  the  hero,  hearing  the  battles  of  his  youth. 
Often  did  he  rife,  in  the  fire  of  his  foul,  at  the 
mighty  deeds  of  Morni. 

The  aged  heard  the  found  of  Oflian's  fhield  : 
he  knew  the  fign  of  battle.    He  ftarted  at  once 

*  He  alludes  to  a  battle  wherein  Fingal  had  defeated  Latk- 
mon.  The  occafion  of  this  firft  war,  between  thofe  heroes,  is 
told  by  Offian  in  another  poem,  which  the  tranflator  has  feen. 

f  Morni  was  chief  of  a  numerous  tribe,  in  the  days  of  Fingal 
and  his  father  Comhal.  The  laft  mentioned  hero  was  killed  in 
batde  againft  Morni's  tribe ;  but  the  valour  and  conduft  of  Fin- 
gal reduced  them,  at  lail,  to  obedience.  We  find  the  two  he- 
roes perfedtly  reconciled  in  this  poem. 

%  Stru'-mone,  fiream  of  the  hill.  Here '  the  proper  name  of 
a  rivulet  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Selma. 

from 


^-:^'    P   6   E   M.  319 

from  his  place.  His  gray  hair  parted  on  his 
back.  He  remembers  the  anions  of  other 
years.  My  fon,-he  faid  to  fair-haired  Gaul,  I 
hear  the  found  of  battle.  The  king  of  Morven 
is  returned,  the  lign  of  war  is  heard.  Go  to  the 
halls  of  Strumon,  and  bring  his  arms  to  Mornl. 
Bring  the  arms  which  my  father  wore  in  his  age, 
for  my  arm  begins  to  fail.  Take  thou  thy  ar- 
mour, O  Gaul ;  and  rufh  to  the  firft  of  thy  bat- 
tles. Let  thine  arm  reach  to  the  renown  oi  thy 
fathers.  Be  thy  courfe  in  the  field,  like  the 
eagle's  wing.  Why  fhouldft  thou  fear  death, 
my  fon !  the  valiant  fall  with  fame;  their  Ihields 
turn  the  dark  ftream  of  danger  away,  and-ce- 
nown  dwells  on  their  gray  hairs,  Doft  thou  not 
fee,  O  Gaul,  how  the  fteps  of  my  age  are  ho- 
noured ?  Morni  moves  forth,  and  the  young 
meet  him,  with  reverence,  and  turn  their  ey^ 
with  filent  joy,  on  his  courfe.  But  I  never  fled 
from  danger,  my  fon !  my  fword  lightened 
through  the  darknefs  of  battle.  The  Itranget 
melted  before  me  j  the  mighty  were  blafted  in 
my  prefcnce.  ^'^'-i 

Gaul  brought  the  arms  to  Morni>:  the  aged 
warrior  covered  himfclf  with  ftecl.-  He  took 
the  fpear  in  his  hand,  which  was  often  ftained 
with  the  blood  of  the  valiant.  He  came 
towards  Fingal,  his  fon  attended  his  flops.  The 
8         *  foa 


|2a        L    A    T    H    M    O    Ni 

fon  of  Cooihfll  rejoiced  over  the  warrior,  whem 
he  Game  in  the  iocksorf  his  age. 

KiJJG  of  the  roaring  Strumon!  faid  therlfing* 
jof  of  Fiflgal ;  <lo  I  behold  thee  in  arms,  after 
thy  ftrength  has  ^iled  ?  Often  has  Morni  Ihone 
In  battles,  -like  the  beam  of  tlie  riling  fun ;  when 
he  di^erfes  the  ftorms  of  the  hill,  and  brings 
peace  to  the  glittering  fields.  But  why  didft 
thou  not  reft  in  thine  age  ?  Thy  renown  is  in  the 
long.  The  people- behold  thee,  and  blefs  the 
cltpartiire  of  mighty  Morni,  Why  didft  thou 
not  reft  in  thine  age  ?  For  the  foe  will  vaniih  be^ 
lbr«  Fingail. 

Son  of  Comhal,  replied  the  chief,  the  l^rengtk 
^  Morni's  arm  has  failed.  I  attempt  to  ^raw 
the  fword  of  my  youth,  but  it  remains  in  its 
ipUce.  I  throw  the  fpear,  but  it  falls  ihort  of 
the  mark ;  and  I  feel  the  weight  of  my  fhield. 
We  decay,  like  the  grafs  of  the  mountain,  and 
•our  firength  returns  no  more.  I  have  a  fon,  O 
Fingal,  his  foul  has  delighted  in  the  anions  of 
•Morni's  youth;  but  his  fword  has  not  been 
lifted  againft  the  foe,  neither  has  his  fame  be- 
igun.  I  come  with  him  to  battle  ;  to  direct  his 
^rm.  His  renown  will  be  a  fun  to  my  foul,  in 
the  dark  hour  of  my  departure.  O  that  the 
xiame  of  Morni  were  forgot  among^  the  people  l 

that 

t 


A       P    O    E    M.  321 

that  the  heroes  would  only  fay,  *'  Behold  the  fa- 
**  ther  ofGaul!" 

'  King  of  Strumon,  Fingal  replied,  Gaul  fhall 
lift  the  fword  in  battle.  But  he  fhall  lift  it  before 
Fingal;  my  arm  fliall  defend  his  youth.  But 
reft  thou  in  the  halls  of  Selma ;  and  hear  of  our 
renown.  Bid  the  harp  be  ftrung ;  and  the  voice 
of  the  bard  arife,  that  thofe' who  fall  may  rejoice 
in  their  fame;  and  the  foul  of  Morni  brighten 

with  gladnefs. Oflian!  thou   haft  fought  in 

battles :  the  blood  of  ftrangers  is  on  thy  fpear  : 
let  thy  courfe  be  with  Gaul  in  the  ftrife;  but  de- 
part not  from  the  fide  of  Fingal ;  left  the  foe 
find  you  alone ;  and  your  fame  fail  at  once. 

I  SAW  *  Gaul  in  his  arms,  and  my  foul  was 
mixed  with  his  :  for  the  fire  of  the  battle  was  in 
his  eyes !  he  looked  to  the  foe  with  joy.  We 
fpoke  the  words  of  friendftiip  in  fccret ;  and  the 
lightning  of  our  fwords  poured  together ;  for  we 
drew  them  behind  the  wood,  and  tried  the 
ftrength  of  our  arms  on  the  empty  air. 

Night  came  down  on  Morvcn.  Fingal  fat 
at  the  beam  of  the  oak.  Morni  fat  by  his  fide 
with  all  his  gray  waving  locks.     Their  difcourfe 

*  Oflian  fpeaks.  The  contraft  between  the  olc!  and  young 
heroes  is  flrongly  marked.  The  circumftance  of  the  latter's 
drawing  their  fwords  is  well  imagined,  and  agrees  with  the  im- 
patience; of  young  foldicis,  jull  entcicJ  upon  aftion. 

Y  is 


322  L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 

is  of  other  times,  and  the  anions  of  their  fathers. 
Three  bards,  at  times,  touched  the  harp ;  and 
UlUn  was  near  with  his  fong.  He  fiing  of  the 
mighty  Comhal;  but  darknefs  gathered  *  on 
Morni's  brow.  He  rolled  his  red  eye  on  Ullin ; 
and  the  fong  of  the  bard  ceafed.  Fingal  ob- 
ferved  the  aged  hero,  and  he  mildly  fpoke. 

Chief  of  Strumon,  why  that  darknefs?  Let 
the  days  of  other  years  be  forgot.  Our  fathers 
contended  in  battle  j  but  we  meet  together,  at 
the  feaft.  Our  fwords  are  turned  on  the  foes, 
and  they  melt  before  us  on  the  field.  .  Let  the 
days  of  our  fathers  be  forgot,  king  of  moffy 
Strumon. 

King  of  Morven,  replied  the  chief,  I  remem- 
ber thy  fathei*  with  joy.  He  was  terrible  in 
battle;  the  rage 'f  of  the  chief  was  deadly.  My 
eyes  were  full  of  tears,  when  the  king  of  heroes 
fell.     The  valiant  fall,  O  Fingal,  and  the  feeble 

•  Ullin  had  chofen  ill  the  fubjecl  of  his  fong.  The  darknefs 
lu-jich  gathered  on  Morni's  iroiv,  did  not  proceed  from  any  diflike 
he  had  to  Comhal's  name,  though  they  were  foe.",  but  from  his 
fear  that  the  long  would  awaken  Fingal  to  remembrance  of  the 
feuds  which  had  fublilled  of  old  between  the  families.  Fingars 
fpecch  on  this  occafion  abounds  with  generofity  and  good  fenfe. 

-f-  This  expreffion  is  ambiguous  in  the  original.  It  either  fig- 
nifies  that  Comhal  killed  many  in  battle,  or  that  he  was  impla- 
cable in  his  rcfentment.  The  tranflator  has  endeavoured  to  pre- 
fprve  the  fame  ambiguity  in  the  verfion  j  as  it  was  probably  de- 
figned  by  the  poet. 

remain 


.A       POEM.  323 

remain  on  the  hills.  How  many  heroes  have 
pafled  away,  in  the  days  of  Morni !  And  I  did 
not  Ihun  the  battle  3  neither  did  I  fly  from  the 
ftrife  of  the  valiant. 

Now  let  the  friends  of  Fingal  reft ;  for  the 
night  is  around ;  that  they  may  rife,  with 
ftrength,  to  battle  againft  car-borne  Lathrtion. 
I  hear  the  found  of  his  hoft,  like  thunder  heard 
on  a  diftant  heath.  Offian !  and  fair-haired 
Gaul !  ye  are  fwift  in  the  race.  Obferve  the 
foes  of  Fingal  from  that  woody  hill.  But  ap- 
proach them  not,  your  fathers  are  not  near  to 
ihield  you.  Let  not  your  fame  fall  at  once. 
The  valour  of  youth  may  fail. 

We  heard  the  words  of  the  chief  with  joy, 
and  moved  in  the  clang  of  our  arms.  Our  fteps 
are  on  the  woody  hill.  Heaven  burns  with  all 
its  ftars.  The  meteors  of  death  fly  over  the 
field.  The  diftant  noife  of  the  foe  reached  our 
ears.  It  was  then  Gaul  fpoke,  in  his  valour ; 
his  hand  half-unfheathed  the  fword. 

Son  of  Fingal,  he  faid,  why  burns  the  foul 
of  Gaul?  My  heart  beats  high.  My  fteps  are 
difordered  j  and  my  hand  trembles  on  my 
fword.  When  I  Jook  towards  the  foe,  my  foul 
lightens  before  me,  and  I  fee  their  fleeping  hoft. 
Tremble  thus  the  fouls  of  the  valiant  in  battles 

of  the  fpear  ? How  would  the  foul  of  Morni 

Y  2  rife 


^54         L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 

rife  if  we  fhould  rulh  on  the  foe  I  Our  renown 
would  grow  in  the  fong  j  and  our  fteps  be  {lately 
In  the  eyes  of  the  brave. 

Son  pf  Morni,  I  replied,  my  foul  delights  in 
battle,  i  deiight  to  fhine  in  battle  alone,  and  to 
give  my  name  to  the  bards.  But  what  if  the  foe 
fliould"pr«vail  J  IhaHI  behold  the  eyes  of  the 
ktng  f  ■  l^y  ate  teirrible  in  his  difpleafure,  and 
tike ithe  flames  of  death. — But  1  will  not  behold 
them  in  his  wrath.  Offian  ihall  prevail  or  fall. 
But  lliall  the  fame  of  the  vanquifhed  rife  ? — 
They  pafs  away  like  a  Shadow.  But  the  fame 
of  OfTian  Ihall  rife.  His  deeds  fhall  be  like  his 
fathers.  Let  us  rufh  in  our  arms  j  fon  of  Morni, 
let  us  rufh  to  battle.  Gaul !  if  thou  fhalt  return, 
go  to  Selma's  lofty  wall.  Tell  to  Evirallin  *  that 
I  fell  with  fame  j  carry  this  fword  to  Branno's 
daughter.  Let  her  give  it  to  Ofcar,  when  the 
years  of  his  youth  Ihall  arife. 

_SoN  of-Fingal,  Gaul  replied  with  a  ligh;  {hall 
I  return  after  OlTian  is  low  !— What  would  my 
father  fay,  and  Fingal  king  of  men  ?  The  feeble 
would  turn  their  eyes  _ and  fay,  "  Behold  the 
«*  mighty  Gaul  who  left  his  friend  in  his  blood  I" 

*  OfTian  had  married  her  a  little  time  before.  The  ftory  of  his 
courtlliiprof  this  lady  is  introduced,  as  an  cpifode,  in  the  fourth 
book  ol  I'ingal. 

Ye 


A       P    O    E    M.  525 

Ye  fliall  not  behold  mc,  ye  feeble,  but  in  the 
midft  of  my  renown.  Offian  I  I  have  heard 
from  my  father  the  mighty  deeds  of  heroes; 
their  mighty  deeds  when  alone;  for  the  foul  in*, 
creafes  in  danger. 

Son  of  Morni,  I  replied  and  ftrode  before  him, 
on  the  heath,  our  fathers  Ihali  praife  our  valour, 
when  they  mourn  our  fall.-  ^  A  beam  of  glad- 
nefs  Ihall  rife  on  their  fouls,  when  their  eyes  are 
full  of  tears.  They  will  fay,  "  Our  fons  have 
**  not  fallen  like  the  grafs  of  the  field,  for  they 
**  fpread  death  around  them.'* — ■ — But  why 
Ihould  we  think  of  the  narrow  houfe  ?  I'he 
fword  defends  the  valiant.  But  death  purfucs 
the  flight  of  the  feeble  ;  and  their  renown  is  not 
heard. 

We  rufhcd  forward  through  night ;  and  came 
to  the  roar  of  a  flream  which  bent  its  blue 
courfe  round  the  foe,  through  trees  that  echoed 
to  its  noife ;  we  came  to  the  bank  of  the  ftream, 
and  faw  the  fleeping  hoft.  Their  fires  were  de- 
cayed on  the  plain  ;  and  the  ioneiy  fleps  of  their 
fcouts  were  diftant  far.  I  firctched  my  fpear 
before  me  to  fupport  my  f^eps  over  the  f^ream. 
But  Gaul  took  my  hand,  and  fpoke  the  words 
of  the  valiant. 

Y  3  SHALt 


5^6         L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 

Shall  *  the  fon  of  Fingal  rufli  on  a  fleeplng 
foe  ?  Shall  he  come  like  a  blaft  by  night  when  it 
overturns  the  young  trees  in  fecret  ?  Fingal  did 
not  thus  receive  his  fame,  nor  dwells  renown  on 
the  gray  hairs  of  Morni,  for  a(5\ions  like  thefe. 
Strike,  Offian,  fir  ike  the  Ihield  of  battle,' and 
let  their  thoufands  rife.  Let  them  meet  Gaul  in 
his  firft  battle,  that  he  may  try  the  ftrength  of 
his  arm. 

My  foul  rejoiced  over  the  warrior,  and  my 
burfting  tears  defcended.  And  the  foe  fhall  meet 
Gaul,  I  faid  :  the  fame  of  Morni's  fon  fhall  arife. 
But  rufh  not  too  far,  my  hero  :  let  the  gleam  of 
thy  fleel  be  near  to  Offlan.     Let  our  hands  join 

in  llaughter. Gaul  !    doft  thou   not  behold 

that  rock  ?  Its  gray  fide  dimly  gleams  to  the 
ftars.  If  the  foe  Ihall  prevail,  let  our  back  be 
towards  the  rock.  Then  fhall  they  fear  to  ap^ 
proach  our  fpears ;  for  death  is  in  our  hands. 

I  STRUCK  thrice  my  echoing  fhield.  The 
ftarting  foe  arofe.     We  rufhed  on  in  the  found 

*  .This  propofal  of  Gaul  is  much  more  noble,  and  more  agree- 
able to  true  heroifm,  than  the  behaviour  of  Ulyfles  and  Diomed 
m  the  Iliad,  or  that  of  Nifos  and  Euryalus  in  the  ^neid.  What . 
his  valour  and  generolity  fuggefted  became  the  foundation  of  his 
fuccefs,  For  the  enemy  being  difmayed  with  the  found  of  Of- 
Han's  ifhield,  which  was  the  common  fignal  of  battle,  thought 
that  Fingal's  whole  army  came  to  attack  them  ;  fo  that  they  fly 
in  reality  from  an  army,  not  from  two  heroes;  which  reconciles 
the  ftory  to  probability, 

of 


A       POEM.  327 

of  our  arms.  Their  crowded  ileps  fly  over  the. 
heath ;  for  they  thought  that  the  mighty  Fingal 
came  j  and  the  ftrength  of  their  arms  withered 
away.  The  found  of  their  flight  was  like  that 
of  flame,  when  it  rulhes  through  the  blafle4 
groves. 

It  was  then  the  fpear  of  Gaul  flew  in  its 
ftrength  :  it  was  then  his  fword  arofe.  Cremor 
fell ;  and  mighty  Leth.  Dunthormo  ftruggled 
in  liis  blood.  The  fleel  rufhed  through  Crotha's 
iide,  as  bent,  he  rofe  on  his  fpear ;  the  black 
flream  poured  from  the  wound,  and  hiffed  oa 
the  half-extinguifhed  oak.  Cathmin  faw  the 
fleps  of  the  hero  behind  him,  and  afcendcd  a, 
blafted  tree;  but  the  fpear  pierced  him  from  be- 
hind. Shrieking,  panting,  he  fell;  mofs  and 
withered  branches  purfue  his  falU  and  ftrew  the 
blue  arms  of  Gaul. 

Such  were  thy  deeds,  fon  of  Morni,  in  the 
flrft  of  thy  battles.  Nor  flept  the  fword  by  thy 
iide,  thou  laft  of  Fingal's  race  !  Ollian  rufhed 
forward  in  his  ftrength,  and  the  people  fell  be- 
fore him  ;  as  the  grafs  by  the  ftatf  of  the  boy, 
when  he  whittles  along  the  field,  and  the  gray 
beard  of  the  thiftle  falls.  But  carelefs  the  youth 
moves  on ;  his  fleps  are  towards  the  defart. 

Gray  morning  rofe  around  us,  the  winding 

flreams  are  bright  along  the  heath.     The  foe  ga- 

Y  4  thered 


328         L    A    T    H    M    O    N: 

thered  on  a  hill  j  and  the  rage  of  Lathmon  rofe. 
He  bent  the  red  eye  of  his  wrath  :  he.  is  iilent  in 
his  rifing  grief.  He  often  ftruck-.his  bofly 
Ihield ;  and  his  ftcps  are  unequal  on  the  heath. 
I  faw  the  diftant  datknefs  of  the  hero,  and  I 
fpoke  to  Morni's  fon.       ..         ,      

Car-borne  *  chief  of  Strumon,  doft  thou 
behold  the  foe  ?  They  gather  on  the  hill  in  their 
wrath.  Let  our  fteps  be.  towards  the  king  f . 
He  fhall  rife  in  his  ilrength,  and  the  hoft  of 
Lathmon  vanlfh.  Our  fame  is  around  us,  war- 
rior, the  eyes  of  the  aged  t  will  rejoice.  But 
let  us  fly,  fon  of  Morni,  Lathmon  defcends  the 
hill. 

Then  let  our  fieps  §  be  flow,  replied  the 
fair-haired  Gaulj  left  the  foe  fay,  with  a  fmile, 
**  Behold  the  warriors  of  night,  they  are,  like 

*  Car- borne  is  a  title  of  honour  bellowed,  by  Offian,  indiT- 
Criminately  on  every  hero ;  as  every  chief,  in  his  time,  kept  a 
chariot  qr  litter  by  way  of  llate. 

f  Fingal. 

X  Fingal  and  Morni. 

§  The  behaviour  of  Gaul,  throughout  this  poem,  is  that  of  a 
hero  in  the  moft  exalted  fenfe.  The  modefty  of  Ofiian,  concern- 
ing his  own  aftions  is  not  lefs  remarkable  than  his  impartiality 
with  fegard  to  Gaul,  for  it  is  well  known  that  Gaul  afterwards 
rebelled  againft  Fingal,  which  might  be  fuppofed  to  have  bred 
prejudices  againft  him  in  the  breafl  of  Offian.  But  as  Gaul, 
from  an  enemy,  became  Fingal's  firmeft  friend  and  greateft  hero, 
the  poet  pafles  oyer  one  flip  in  his  condu<Sl,  on  account  of  his 
many  virtues. 

^*  ghofts, 


A       POEM.  329 

*'  ghofts,  terrible  in-  darknefs,  but  they  melt 
"  away  before  the  beam  of  the  caft."  Oiiian, 
take  the  fhield  of  Gormar  who  fell  beneath  thy 
fpear,  that  the  aged  heroes  may  rejoice,  when 
they  ihali  behold  the  aflions  of  their  fons. 

Such  were  our  words  on  the  plain,  when  SuU 
math  *  came  to  car-borne  Lathmon  :  Sulmath 
chief  of  Dutha  at  the  dark-rolling  flream  of 
Duvranna  -f .  Why  doft  thou  not  rulh,  fon  of 
Nuath,  with  a  thoufand  of  thy  heroes  ?  Why 
doft  thou  not  defcend  with  thy  hoft,  before  the 
warriors  fly  ?  Their  blue  arms  are  beaming  to 
the  riling  light,  and  their  fteps  are  before  us  on 
tlie  heath. 

Son  of  the  feeble  hand,  faid  .Latlimon,  Ihall 
my  hoft  defcend  I  They  if  arc  but  two,  fon  of 

Dutha, 

•  Suil-mhath,  a  man  ofgoodtse-Jigln. 

f  Dubh-bhranna,  dark  mount ain-flream.  What  river  went  by 
this  name,  in  the  days  of  Offian,  is  not  eafily  afcertained,  at  this 
dillance  of  time.  A  river  in  Scotland,  which  falls  into  the  fea 
at  Banff,  ftill  retains  the  name  of  Duvran.  If  that  is  meant,  ^, by 
Offian,  in  this  pafTage,  Lathmoji  muft  have  been  a  prince  of  the 
Pi»^ifh  naiion,  or  thofe  Caledonians  who  inhabited  of  old  the 
eailern  coafl  of  Scotland.  .  -, 

X  Offian  feldom  fails  to  give  his  heroes,  though  enemies,  that 
generofity  of  temper  which,  it  appears  from  his  poems,' waSi 
confpicuous  part  of  his  own  chara(fler.  Thofe  who  too  mutK 
defpife  their  enemies  do  not  rcfleft,  that  the  more  they  tak^ 
from  the  valour  of  their  foes,  the  lefs  merit  they  have  therofelves" 
in  conquering  them.  The  cuftom  of  depreciating  cnemtes  is  nof 
altogether  one  of  the  refinements  of  modern  heroifm.     This 

failing 


P30  L     A    T    H     M    O     N: 

Dutha,  and  fliall  a  thoufand  lift  their  fleel! 
Nuiith  would  mourn,  in  his  hall,  for  the  ^de- 
parture of  his  fame.  His  eyes  would  turn  from 
Lathmon,  when  the  tread  of  his  feet  approached. 

Go   thou  to  the  heroes,    chief  of  Dutha, 

for  I  behold  the  flately  fteps  of  Oflian.  His 
fame  is  worthy  of  my  fteel ;  let  him  fight  with 
Lathmon. 

The  noble  Sulmath  came.  I  rejoiced  in  the 
words  of  the  king.  I  raifed  the  Ihield  on  my 
arm  ;  and  Gaul  placed  in  my  hand  the  fword  of 
Morni.  We  returned  to  the  murmuring  ftream ; 
Lathmon  came  in  his  ftrength.  His  dark  hoft 
rolled,  like  the  clouds,  behind  him  :  but  the  fon 
of  .Nuath  was  bright  in  his  fteel. 

Son  of  Fingal,  faid  the  hero,  thy  fame  has 
grown  on  our  fall.  How  many  lie  there  of  my 
people  by  thy  hand,  thou  king  of  men !  Lift  now 
thy  fpear  againft  Lathmon ;  and  lay  the  fon  of 
Nuath  low.  Lay  him  low  among  his  people,  or 
thou  thyfelf  muft  fall.  It  fhall  never  be  told  in 
my  halls  that  my  warriors  fell  in  my  prefence  ; 
that  they  fell  in  the  prefence  of  Lathmon  when 

railing  difpofition  is  one  of  the  capital  faults  in  Homer's  charac- 
ters, which,  by  the  byfe,  cannot  be  imputed  to  the  poet,  who 
kept  to  the  manners  of  the  times  of  which  he  wrote.  Milton 
has  followed  Homer  in  this  refpecl ;  but  railing  is  lefs  fhocking 
in  infernal  fpirits,  who  are  the  objefts  of  horror,  than  in  heroes, 
who  are  fet  up  as  patterns  of  imitation, 

his 


A       P    O    E    M.  53r 

his  fword  refted  by  his  fide :  the  blue  eyes  of 
Cutha  *  would  roll  in  tears,  and  her  fteps  be 
lonely  in  the  vales  of  Dunlathnion. 

Neither  Ihall  it  be  told,  I  replied,  that  the 
fon  of  Fingal  ficd.  Were  his  fteps  covered  with 
darknefs,  yet  would  not  Offian  fly;  his  foul 
would  meet  him  and  fay,  "  Does  the  bard  of 
*'  Selma  fear  the  foe  ?"  No  :  he  docs  not  fear 
the  foe.     His  joy  is  in  the  midft  of  battle. 

Lathmon  came  on  with  his.  fpear,  and 
pierced  the  fhield  of  Offian.  I  felt  the  cold  fteel 
at  my  fide  j  and  drew  the  fword  of  Morni:  I  cut 
the  fpear  in  twain ,  the  bright  point  fell  glitter- 
ing on  the  ground.  The  fon  of  Nuath  burnt  in 
his  wrath,  and  lifted  high  his  founding  fhield. 
His  dark  eyes  rolled  above  it,  as  bending  for- 
ward, it  Ihone  like  a  gate  of  brafs.  But  Offian's 
fpear  pierced  the  brightnefs  of  its  bofles,  and 
funk  in  a  tree  that  rofe  behind.  The  Ihield 
hung  on  the  quivering  lance!  but  Lathmon  ftill 
advanced.  Gaul  forefaw  the  fall  of  the  chief, 
and  ftretched  his  buckler  before  my  fword ; 
when  it  defcended,  in  a  ftream  of  light  over  the 
king  of  Dunlathmon. 

Lathmon  beheld  the  fon  of  Morni,  and  the 
tear  ftarted  from  his  eye.     He  threw  the  fword 

*  Cutha  appears  to  have  been  Lathmon's  wife  or  miftrefs. 

of 


332  L    A    T    H    M    O     N: 

of  his  fathers  on  the  ground,  and  fpoke  the 
words  of  the  valiant.  Why  (liould  Lathmon 
fight  againft  the  firft  of  mortal  men  ?  Your  fouls 
are  beams  from  heaven  5  your  fwords  the  flames 
of  death.  Who  can  equal  the  renown  of  the 
heroes,  wliofe  anions  are  fo  great  m  youth !  O 
that  ye  were  in  the  halls  of  Nuath,  in  the  green 
dwelling  of  Lathmon  !  then  would  my  father 
fay,  that  his  fon  did  not  yield  to  the  feeble. — 
But  who  comes,  a  mighty  ftream,  along  the 
echoing  heath  ?  the  little  hills  are  troubled  before 
him,  and  a  thoufand  fpirits  are  on  the  beams  of 
his  fteel  j  the  fpirits  *  of  thofe  who  are  to  fall  by 
the  arm  of  the  king  of  refounding  Morven.— - 
Happy  art  thou,  O  Fingal,  thy  fons  fliall  fight 
thy  battles ;  they  go  forth  before  thee  j  and  they 
return  with  the  fteps  of  renown. 

Fingal  came,  in  his  mildnefs,  rejoicing  in 
fecret  over  the  actions  of  his  fon.  Morni's  face 
brightened  with  gladnefs,  and  his  aged  eyes 
looked  faintly  through  the  tears  of  joy.  We 
Game  to  the  halls  of  Selma,  and  fat  round  the 
feaft  of  fhells.  The  maids  of  the  fong  came  into 
our  prefence,  and  the  mildly  blufhing  Evirallin. 
Her  dark  hair  fpread  on  her  neck  of  fnow,  her 

*  It  was  thought,  in  Oflian's  time,  that  each  perfon  had  his 
attending  fpiiit.  The  traditions  concerning  this  opinion  are  dark 
and  unfatisfaflory. 

eye 


A       P    O    E    M.  333 

eye  rolled  in  fecret  on  Oflian ;  fhe  touched  the 
harp  of  mufic,  and  we  blefled  the  daughter  of 
Branno. 

FiNGAL  rofe  in  his  place,  and  fpoke  to 
Dunlathmon's  battling  king.  The  fword  of 
Trenmor  trembled  by  his  fide,  as  he  lifted  up 
his  mighty  arm.  Son  of  Nuath,  he  faid,  why 
doft  thou  fearch  for  fame  in  Morven  ?  We  are 
not  of  the  race  of  the  feeble ;  nor  do  our  fwords 
gleam  over  the  weak.  When  did  we  come  to 
Dunlathmon,  with  the  found  of  war  ?  Fingal 
does  not  delight  in  battle,  though  his  arm  is 
ftrong.  My  renown  grows  on  the  fall  of  the 
haughty.  The  lightning  of  my  fteel  pours  on 
the  proud  in  arms.  The  battle  comes ;  and  the 
tombs  of  the  valiant  rife  ;  the  tombs  of  my  peo- 
ple rife,  O  my  fathers !  and  I  at  laft  muft  re- ' 
main  alone.  But  I  will  remain  renowned,  and 
the  departure  of  my  foul  Ihall  be  one  ftream  of 
light.  Lathmon !  retire  to  thy  place.  Turn 
thy  battles  to  other  lands.  The  race  of  Morven 
are  renowned,  and  their  foes  are  the  fons  of  the 
unhappy. 


O  I  T  H  O  N  A 


[     334    3 


O    I    T    H    6    N    A: 


A     P     O     E     M  *. 


DARKNESS  dwells  around Dunlatlimon, 
though  the  moon  iTicws  half  her  face  on 
the  hill.  The  daughter  of  night  turns  her  eyes 
away  j  for  fhe  beholds  the  grief  that  is  coming.— 

The 

•  Gaul,  the  fon  of  Morni,  attended  Lathmon  Into  his  own 
country,  after  his  being  defeated  in  Moi-ven,  as  related  in  the 
preceding  poem.  He  was  kindly  entertained  by  Nuath,  the  fa- 
ther of  Lachmon,  and  fell  in  love  with  his'  daughter  Oithona. 
—  —The  lady  was  no  lefs  enamoured  of  Gaul,  and  a  day  was 
fixed  for  their  marriage.  In  the  mean  time  Fingal,  preparing 
for  an  expedition  into  the  country  of  the  Britons,  fent  for  GauJ. 
He  obeyed,  and  went;  but  not  without  promifing  to  Oithona  to 
return,  if  he  furvived  the  war,  by  a  certain  day. — Lathmon  too 
was  obliged  to  attend  his  father  Nuiith  in  his  wars,  and  Oithona 
was  left  alone  at  Dunlathmon,  the  feat  of  the  family. — Dun- 
rommath,  lord  of  Uthal,  fuppofed  to  be  one  of  the  Orkneys^ 
taking  advantage  of  the  abfence  of  her  friends,  came  and  carried 
off,  by  force,  Oithona,  who  had  formerly  reje£led  his  love,  into 
Tromathon,  a  defart  ifland,  where  he  concealed  her  in  a  cave, 

Gaul  returned  on  the  day  appointed  ;  heard  of  the  rape,  and 
failed  to  Tromathon,  to  revenge  himfelf  on  Dunrommath. 
When  he  landed,  he  found  Oithona  difconfolate,  and  refolved 
not  to  fiii  vive  the  lofs  of  her  honour. — She  told  him  the  ftory  of 
her  misfortunes,   and  fhe  fcarce  ended,  when   Dunrommath, 

with 


A       P    O    E    M.  335 

The  fon  of  Morni  is  on  the  plain  ;  but  there  is 
no  found  in  the  hall.  No  long-ftreaming  * 
beam  of  light  comes  trembling  through  the 
gloem.     The  voice   of  Oithona  -f  is  not  heard 

amidft  thenoife  of  the  flreams  of  Duvranna. 

Whither  art  thou  gone  in  thy  beauty,  dark- 
haired  daughter  of  Nuath  ?  Lathmon  is  in  the 
field  of  the  valiant,  but  thou  didft  promife  to 
remain  in  the  hall ;  thou  didft  promife  to  re- 
main in  the  hall  till  the  fon  of  Morni  returned. 
Till  he  returned  from  Strumon,  to  the  maid  of 
his  love.  The  tear  was  on  thy  che^k.  at  his  de- 
parture :  the  figh  rofe  in  fecret  in  thy  breaft. 
But  thou  doft  not  come  to  meet  him,  with 
fongs,  with  the  lightly-trembling  found  of  the 
harp. ^ 

with  his  followers,  appeared  at  the  further  end  of  the  ifland. 
Gaul  prepared  to  attack  him,  recommending  to  Oithona  to  re- 
tire, till  the  battle  was  over. — She  feemingly  obeyed ;  but  OiC 
fecretly  armed  herfelf,  rufhed  into  the  thickeft  of  the  battle,  and 
was  moftally  wounded.— Gaul  purfuing  the  flying  enemy,  found 
her  juft  expiring  on  the  field:  he  mourned  over  her,  raifed  her 

tomb,  and  returned  to  Morvcn. Thus  is  the  fiory  handed 

down  by  tradition ;  nor  is  it  given  with  any  matt-rial  difference 
in  the  poem,  which  opens  with  Gaul's  return  to  Dunlathmon, 
after  the  rape  of  Oithona. 

*  Some  gentle  taper 

!-vifit  us 

With  thy  long  levelled  rule  of  ftreaming  light. 

Milton. 
f  Oi-thona,  the  'virgin  of  the  'wave, 

5  Such 


5:56  O    I    T     H    O    N    A: 

Such  were  the  words  of  Gaul,  when  he  came 
to  Dunlathmon's  towers.  The  gates  were  open 
and  dark.  The  winds  were  bluftering  in  the 
hall.  The  trees  ftrowed  the  threfhold  with 
leaves  j  and  the  murmur  of  night  was  abroad. 
— Sad  and  filent,  at  a  rock,  the  fon  of  Morni 
fat :  his.  foul  trembled  for  the  maid ;  but  he 
knew  not  whither  to  turn  his  courfe.  The 
fon  *  of  Leth  flood  at  a  diftance,  and  heard  the 
winds  in  his  bufhy  hair.  But  he  did  not  raife  his 
voice,  for  he  faw  the  forrow  of  Gaul. 

Sleep  defcended  on  the  heroes.  The  vifions 
of  night  arofe.  Oithona  flood  in.  a  dream,  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  Morni's  fon.  Her  dark  hair 
was  loofe  and  difordered :  her  lovely  eye  rolled 
in  tears.  Blood  flaincd  her  fnowy  arm.  The 
robe  half  hid  the  wound  of  her  breaft.  She 
flood  over  the  chief,  and  her  voice  was  heard. 

Sleeps  the  fon  of  Morni,  he  that  was  lovely 
In  the  eyes  of  Oithona?  Sleeps  Gaul  at  the  diflant 
rock,  and  the  daughter  of  Nuath  low  ?  The  fea 
rolls  round  the  dark  iile  of  Tromathon ;  I  fit  in 
my  tears  in  the  cave.  Nor  do  I  fit  alone,  O 
Gaul,  the  dark  chief  of  Cuthal  is  there.     He  is 

•  Morlo,  the  fon  of  Leth,  is  one  of  Fingal's  moft  famous 
heroes.  Ke  and  three  other  men  attended  Gaul  on  his  expedi- 
tion to  Trcuiaihon. 

there 


A       POEM.  337 

there  In  the  rage  of  his  love. — And  what  can 
Oith6na  do  ? 

A  ROUGHER  blaft  rulhed  through  the  oak. 
The  dream  of  night  departed.  Gaul  took  his 
afpen  fpear ;  he  ftood  in  the  rage  of  wrath. 
Often  did  his  eyes  turn  to  the  eaft,  and  accufb 
the  lagging  light. — At  length  the  morning  came 
forth.  The  hero  lifted  up  the  fail.  The  winds 
came  ruftling  from  the  hill ;  and  he  bounded  on 
the  waves  of  the  deep. — On  the  third  day  arofe 
Tromathon  *,  like  a  blue  fhield  in  the  midft  of 
the  fea.  The  white  wave  roared  againft  its 
rocks ;  fad  Oithona  fat  on  the  coaft.  She  looked 
on  the  rolling  waters,  and  her  tears  defcend. 

But  when  Ihe  faw  Gaul  in  his  arms,   fhe 

ftarted  and  turned  her  eyes  away.  Her  lovely 
cheek  Is  bent  and  red  ;  her  white  arm  trembles 
by  her  fide. — Thrice  Ihe  ftrove  to  fly  from  his 
prcfence ;  but  her  fteps  failed  her  as  Ihe  went. 

Tail!?  <l>atnrxw, 

— — ~k>5  ore  ^jvov  IV  »)£eoiio.»  irorry. 

HoM.  Od.  V.  280, 
Then  fvveird  to  fight  Phajacia's  dufky  coail. 
And  woody  mountains  half  in  vapours  loft  ; 
That  lay  before  him  indiftindl  and  vaft. 
Like  a  broad  fhield  amid  the  watry  wafte, 
Tfoni-thdn,  heavy  or  deep-founding  ivave. 

7»  Paughter 


338  O    I    T    H    O    N    Ar 

Daughter  of  Nuath,  faid  the  hero,  why 
doft  thou  fly  from  Gaul  ?  Do  my  eyes  fend  forth 
the  flame  of  death  ?  Or  darkens  hatred  in  my 
foul  ?  Thou  art  to  me  the  beam  of  the  eaft  rifmg 
in  a  land  unknown.  But  thou  covereft  thy  face 
with  fadnefs,  daughter  of  high  Dunlathmon ! 
Is  the  foe  of  Oithona  near  ?  My  foul  burns  to 
meet  him  in  battle.  The  fword  trembles  on  the 
fide  of  Gaul,  and  longs  to  glitter  in  his  hand. 

Speak,  daughter  of  Nuath,  doft  thou  not 

behold  my  tears? 

Car-borne  chief  of  Strumon,  replied  the 
fighing  maid,  why  comeft  thou  over  the  dark- 
blue  wave  to  Nuath's  mournful  daughter  ?  Why 
did  I  not  pafs  away  in  fecret,  like  the  flower  of 
the  rock,  that  lifts  its  fair  head  unfeen,  and 
firows  its  withered  leates  on  the  blaft  ?  Why  didft 
thou  come,  O  Gaul,  to  hear  my  departing  figh  ? 
I  pafs  away  in  my  youth  j  and  my  name  flialltiot 
be  heard.  Or  it  will  be  heard  with  forrow,  and 
the  tears  of  Nuath  will  fall.  Thou  wilt  be  fad, 
fon  of  Morni,  for  the  fallen  fame  of  Oithona. 
But  fhe  fhall  fleep  in  the  narrow  tomb,  far  from 

the  voice  of  the  mourner. Why  didfl:  thou 

come,  ohief  of  Strumon,  to  the  fea-beat  rocks 
of  Tromathon. 

I  CAME  to  meet  thy  foes,  daughter  of  car- 
borne  Nuath  !  the  death  of  Cuthal's  chief  dar- 
kens 


•       A       P    O    E    Mi  ^39 

kens  before  me ;  or  Morni's  fon  fliall  fall.— - 
Oithona !  when  Gaul  is  low,  raife  my  tomb  oil 
that  oozy  rock  j  and  when  the  dark-bounding 
Ihip  Ihall  pafs,  call  the  fons  of  the  fea;  call 
them,  and  give  this  fword,  that  they  may  carry 
it  to  Morni's  hall  j  that  the  gfey-haired  hero 
may  ceafe  to  look  towards  the  defart  for  the  re* 
turn  of  his  fon. 

And  Ihall  the  daughter*  of  Nuath  live,  Ihe  te- 
plied  with  a  burfting  figh  ?  Shall  I  lire  in  Tro- 
mathon,  and  the  fon  of  Morni  low?  My  heart 
is  not  of  that  rock  ;  nor  my  foul  carelefs  as  that 
fea,  which  lifts  its  blue  waves  to  every  wind,  and 
rolls  beneath  the  ftorm.  The  blaft  which  fhall 
lay  thee  low,  fhall  fpread  the  branches  of  Oi- 
thona on  earth.     We  fhall  wither  together,  fon 

of  car-borne  Morni ! The  narrow  houfe  is 

pleafant  to  me,  and  the  gray  ftone  of  the  dead  : 
for  never  more  w'.ll  I  leave  thy  rocks,  fea-fur- 
rounded  Tromathon! — Night  *  came  on  with 
her  clouds,  after  the  departure  of  Lathmon, 
when  he  went  to  the  wars  of  his  fathers,  to  the 
mofs-covered  rock  of  Duthormoth ;  night  came 
on,  and  I  fat  in  the  hall,  at  the  beam  of  the 
oak.  The  wind  was  abroad  in  the  trees.  I 
heard  the  found  of  arms.     Joy  rofe  in  my  face  ; 

*  Oithona  relates  how  flie  was  carried  away  by  Dunrommath. 

Z  2  for 


340  O    I    T     H    O    N    A: 

for  1  thought  of  thy  return.  It  was  the  chief  of 
Cuthal,  the  red-haired  ftrength  of  Dunrommath. 
His  eyes  rolled  in  fire :  the  blood  of  my  people 
was  on  his  fword.     They  who  defended  Oithona  ' 

fell  by  the  gloomy  chief. What  could  1  do  ? 

My  arm  was  weak ;  it  could  not  lift  the  fpear. 
He  took  me  in  my  grief,  amidft  my  tears  he 
raifed  the  fail.  He  feared  the  returning  ftrength 
of  Lathmon,  the  brother  of  unhappy  Oithona. 

But  behold,  he  comes  with  his  people  !  the 

dark  wave  is  divided  before  him  ! — Whither  wilt 
thou  turn  thy  fteps,  fon  of  Morni?  Many  are 
the  warriors  of  Dunrommath  ! 

My  ftcps  never  turned  from  battle,  replied 
the  hero,  as  he  unlheathed  his  fword  ;  and  fhall 
I  begin  to  fear,  Oithona,  when  thy  foes  are 
near  ?  Go  to  thy  cave,  daughter  of  Nuath,  till 
our  battle  ceafe.  Son  of  Leth,  bring  the  bows 
of  our  fathers ;  and  the  founding  quiver  af 
Morni.  Let  our  three  warriors  bend  the  yew. 
Ourfclves  will  lift  the  fpear.  They  are  an  hoft  on 
the  rock;  but  our  fouls  are  ftrong. 
'  The  daughter  of  Nuath  went  to  the  cave  :  a 
troubled  joy  rofe  on  her  mind,  like  the  red  path 
of  the  lightning  on  a  ftormy  cloud.— Her  foul 
was  refolved,  and  the  tear  was  dried  from  her 
wildly-iooking  eye. — Dunrommath  flowly  ap- 
proached ;  for  he  faw  the  fon  of  Morni.  Con- 
tempt 


A       P    O    E    M.  341 

tempt  contracted  his  face,  a  fmile  Is  on  his 
dark-brown  cheek ;  his  red  eye  rolled,  half- 
conceal'd,  beneath  his  Ihaggy  brows. 

Whence  are  the  fons  of  the  fea,  begun  the 
gloomy  chief?  Have  the  winds  driven  you  to 
the  rocks  of  Tromathon  ?  Or  come  you  in 
fearch  of  the  white-handed  daughter  of  Nuath  ? 
The  fons  of  the  unhappy,  ye  feeble  men,  come 
to  the  hand  of  Dunrommath.  His  eyes  fpares 
not  the  weak ;  and  he  delights  in  the  blood  of 
Grangers.  Oithona  is  a  beam  of  light,  and  the 
chief  of  Cuthal  enjoys  it  in  fecret ;  would  thou 
come  on  its  lovelinefs  like  a  cloud,  fon  of  the 
feeble  hand ! — Thou  mayft  come,  but  Ihalt  thou 
return  to  the  halls  of  thy  fathers  ? 

Dost  thou  not  know  me,  faid  Gaul,  red- 
haired  chief  of  Cuthal  ?  Thy  feet  were  fwlft  on 
the  heath,  in  the  battle  of  car-borne  Lathmon  ; 
when  the  fword  of  Morni's  fon  purfued  his  hoft, 
in  Morven's  woody  land.  Dunrommath !  thy 
words  are  mighty,  for  thy  warriors  gather  be- 
hind thcc.  But  do  I  fear  them,  fon  of  pride  ? 
I  am  not  of  the  race  of  the  feeble, 

Gaul  advanced  in  his  arms;  Dunrommath 
fhrunk  behind  his  people.  But  the  fpear  of 
Gaul  pierced  the  gloomy  chief,  and  his  fword 

lopped  off  his  head,  as  it'bended  in  death. 

The  fon  of  Morni  Ihook  it  thrice  by  the  lock  ; 

Z  3  the. 


342  O    I    T    H    O    N    A  J 

the  warriors  of  Dunrommath  fled.  The  arrows 
of  Morven  purfued  them :  ten  fell  on  the  mofly 
rocks.  The  refl:  lift  the  founding  fail,  and 
bound  on  the  echoing  deep. 

Gaul  advanced  towards  the  cave  of  Oithona, 
He  beheld  a  youth  leaning  againft  a  rock.  An 
arrow  had  pierced  his  lide ;  and  his  eye  rolled 
faintly  beneath  his  helmet. — The  foul  of  Morni's 
fon  is  fad,  he  came  ajid  fpoke  the  words  of 
peace. 

Can  the  hand  of  Gaul  heal  thee,  youth  of  the 
mournful  brow  ?  I  have  fearched  for  the  herbs, 
of  the  mountains  ;  I  have  gathered  them  on  the 
fecrct  banks  of  their  ftreams.  My  hand  has 
clafed  the  wound  of  the  valiant,  and  their  eyes 
have  blcffed  the  fon  of  Morni.  Where  dwelt 
thy  fathers,  warrior  ?  Were  they  of  the  fons  of 
the  mighty?  Sadnefs  fhall  come,  like  night,  on 
thy  native  flreams ;  for  thou  art  fallen  in  thy 

youth. 

My  fathers,  replied  the  ftranger,  were'  of  the 
fons  of  the  mighty ;  but  they  fhall  not  be  fad ; 
for  my  fame  is  departed  like  morning  mift. 
High  walls  rife  on  the  banks  of  Duvranna  j  and 
fee  their  molTy  towers  in  the  ftream  ;  a  rock  af- 
cends  behind  them  with  its  bending  firs.  Thou 
may  ft  behold  it  far  dubnt.     There  my  brother 

dwblls. 


A       P    O    E    M.  343 

dwells.  He  Is  renowned  in  battle:  give  him 
this  glittering  helmet. 

The  helmet  fell  from  the  hand  of  Gaul  j  for 
it  was  the  wounded  Oithona.  She  had  armed 
herfelf  in  the  cave,  and  came  in  fearch  of  death. 
Her  heavy  eyes  are  half  clofed ;  the  blood  pours 
from  her  lide.-^ — ^ 

Son  of  Morni,  fhe  faid,  prepare  the  narrow 
tomb.  Sleep  comes,  like  a  cloud,  on  my  foul. 
The  eyes  of  Oithona  are  dim.  O  had  I  dwelt  at 
Duvranna,  in  the  bright  beam  of  my  fame  ! 
then  had  my  years  come  on  with  joy  ;  and  the 
virgins  would  blefs  my  fteps.  But  I  fall  in 
youth,  fon  of  Morni,  and  my  father  ihall  blufli 
in  his  hall. 

Sh  e  fell  pale  on  the  rock  of  Tromathon.    The 

mournful  hero  raifed  her  tomb. He  came  to 

Morven ;  but  we  faw  the  darknefs  of  his  foul. 
Oflian  took  the  harp  in  the  praife  of  Oithona. 
The  brightnefs  of  the  face  of  Gaul  returned. 
But  his  figh  rofe,  at  times,  in  the  midft  of  his 
friends,  like  blafls  that  Ihake  their  unfrequent 
wings,  after  the  ftormy  winds  are  laid. 


Z  4  C  R  O  M  A ; 


[    344    ] 


R       O       M       A: 


A      POEM* 


IT  was  the  voice  of  my  love !  few  arc  his 
vifits  to  the  dreams  of  Malvina  !  Open  your 
airy  halls,  ye  fathers  of  mighty  Tofcar.  Un- 
fold the  gates  of  your  clouds ,  the  fteps  of  Mai- 

*  Malvina  the  daughter  of  Tofcar  is  overheard  by  Oflian  la- 
menting the  death  of  Ofcar  her  lover.  Offian,  to  divert  her 
grief,  relates  his  own  aftions  in  an  expedition  which  he  under- 
took, at  Fingal'.-^  command,  to  aid  Crothar  the  petty  king  of 
Croma,  a  country  in  Ireland,  aga  nfl  Rothmar  who  invaded  his 
dominions.  The  ftory  is  delivered  down  thus,  in  tradition. 
Crothar  king  of  Croma  being  blind  with  age,  and  his  fon  too 
young  for  the  field,  Hothmar  the  chief  of  Tromlo  refolved  tp 
avail  himfelf  of  the  opportunity  offered  of  annexing  the  domi- 
nions Qf  Crothar  to  his  own.  He  accordingly  marched  into  the 
country  fubjcft  to  Crothar,  but  which  he  held  of  Arth  or  Artho, 
who  was,  at  the  time,  fupreme  king  of  Ireland. 

Crothar  being,  on  account  of  his  age  and  blindnefs,  unfit  for 
adlicn.  fent  for  aid  to  Fingal  king  of  Scotland  ;  who  ordered  his 
fon  Offian  to  the  relief  of  Crothar.  But  before  his  arrival  Fovar- 
gormo,  the  fon  of  Crothar,  attacking  Rothmar,  was  flain  him- 
felf, and  his  forces  totally  defeated.  Offian  renewed  the  war; 
c^me,  to  battle,  killed  Rothmar,  and  routed  his  army,  Ctoiosl 
ls«ing  thus  delivered  of  its  enemies,  OlTian  returned  to  Scotland. 

yina's 


A       P    O    E    M.  345 

vina's  departure  are  near.  I  have  heard  a  voice 
in  my  dream.  I  feel  the  fluttering  of  my  foul. 
Why  didft  thou  come,  O  blaft,  from  the  dark- 
rolling  of  the  lake  ?  Thy  ruftling  wing  was  in 
the  trees,  the  dream  of  Majyina  departed.  But 
Ihe  beheld  her  love,  when  his  robe  of  mift  flew 
on  the  wind  j  the  beam  of  the  fun  vras  on  his 
ikirts,  they  glittered  like  the  gold  of  the  Gran- 
ger. It  was  the  voice  of  my  love !  few  are  his 
vifits  to  my  dreams  ! 

But  thou  dwclleft  in  the  foul  of  Malvina,  fon 
of  mighty  Oilian.  My  fighs  arife  with  the 
beam  of  the  eaft  j  my  tears  dcfcend  with  the 
drops  of  night.  I  was  a  lovely  tree,  in  thy  pre- 
fence,  Ofcar,  with  all  my  branches  round  me; 
but  thy  death  came  like  a  blall:  from  the  defart, 
and  laid  my  green  head  low;  the  fpring  re- 
turned with  its  fhowers,  but  no  leaf  of  mine 
arofe.  The  virgins  faw  me  filent  in  the  hall, 
and  they  touched  the  harp  of  joy.  The  tear  w:^s 
on  the  cheek  of  Malvina :  the  virgins  beheld 
me  in  my  grief.  Why  art  thou  fad,  they  faidj 
thou  firft  of  the  maids  of  Lutha  ?  Was  he 
lovely  as  the  beam  of  the  morning,  and  ftatcly 
in  thy  fight  ? 

Pleasant  is  thy  fongin  Oflian's  ear,  daugh- 
ter of  ftreamy  Lutlia !  Thou  haft  heard  the  mufic 
pf  departed  bards  in   the  dream  of  thy  reft, 

when 


34^  C      R      O      M      A: 

when  fleep  fell  on  thine  eyes,  at  the  mutmur  of 
Moruth  *,  When  thou  didft  return  from  the 
ehace,  in  the  day  of  the  fun,  thou  haft  heard 
the  mufic  of  the  bards,  and  thy  fong  is  lovely. 
It  is  lovely,  O  Malvina,  but  it  melts  the  foul. 
There  is  a  joy  in  grief  when  peace  dwells  in  the 
breaft  of  the  fad.  But  forrow  waftes  the  mourn- 
ful, O  daughter  of  Tofcar,  and  their  days  arc 
few.  They  fall  away,  like  the  flower  on  which 
the  fun  looks  in  his  ftrength  after  the  mildew  hat 
paiTed  over  it,  and  its  head  is  heavy  with  the 
drops  of  night.  Attend  to  the  tale  of  Offian,  O 
maid ;  he  remembers  the  days  of  his  youth. 

The  king  commanded;  I  raifed  my  fails,  and 
rullied  into  the  bay  of  Croma;  into  Croma's 
founding  bay  in  lovely  Innis-fail  f*.  High  on 
the  coaft  arofe  the  towers  of  Crothar  king  of 
fpears ;  Crothar  renowned  in  the  battles  of  his 
youth  j  but  age  dwelt  then  around  the  chief. 
Rothmar  raifed  the  fword  againft  the  hero ;  and 
the  wrath  of  Fingal  burned.  He  fent  OfTian  to 
meet  Rothmar  in  battle,  for  the  chief  of  Croma 
was  the  companion  of  his  youth. 

I  SENT  the  bard  before  me  with  fongs;  I  came 
into  the  hall  of  Crothar.     There  fat  the  hero 


•  Mor'-ruth,  great ftream. 

t  Innis-fail,  One  of  the  ancient  names  of  Ireland. 


amldf^ 


A       POEM.  347 

amldft  the  arms  of  his  fathers,  but  his  eyes  had 
failed.  His  gray  locks  waved  around  a  ftaif,  on 
which  the  warrior  leaned.  He  hummed  the 
fong  of  other  times,  when  the  found  of  our  arms 
reached  his  ears.  Crothar  rofe,  ftretched  his 
aged  hand,  and  blelTed  the  fon  of  Fingal.    . 

OssiAN  !  faid  the  hero,  the  ftrength  of  Cro- 
thar's  arm  has  failed.  O  could  I  lift  the  fword, 
as  on  the  day  that  Fingal  fought  at  Strutha !  He 
was  the  firft  of  mortal  men ;  but  Crothar  had 
alfo  his  fame.  The  king  of  Morven  praifed 
me,  and  he  placed  on  my  arm  the  bolTy  fliield  of 
Calthar,  whom  the  hero  had  flain  in  war.  Doft 
thou  not  behold  it  on  the  wall,  for  Crothar's 
eyes  have  failed?  Is  thy  ftrength,  like  thy  fa- 
thers, Oilian  ?  let  the  aged  feel  thine  arm. 

I  GAVE  my  arm  to  the  king;  he  feels  it  with 
his  aged  hands.  The  (igh  rofe  in  his  breaft,  and 
his  tears  defcended.  Thou  art  ftrong,  my  fon,. 
he  faid,  but  not  like  the  king  of  Morven.  But 
who  is  like  that  hero  among  the  mighty  in  war  ! 
Let  the  feaft  of  my  halls  be  fpread  ;  and  let  my 
bards  raife  the  fong.  Great  is  he  that  is  within 
my  walls,  fons  of  echoing  Croma  1 

The  feaft  is  fpread.  The  harp  is  heard;  and 
joy  is  in  the  hall.  But  it  was  joy  covering  a 
figh,  that  darkly  dwelt  in  every  breaft.  It  was 
like  the  faint  beam  of  the  moon  fpread  on  a 

cloud 


34^  C      R      O      M      A: 

cloud  in  heaven.  At  length  the  mufic  ceafed, 
and  the  aged  king  of  Croma  fpoke ;  he  fpokc 
without  a  tear,  but  the  figh  fwelled  in  the  midft 
of  his  voice. 

Son  of  Fingal!  doft  thou  not  behold  the 
darknefs  of  Crothar's  hall  of  fhells  ?  My  foul 
was  not  dark  at  the  feaft,  when  my  people  lived. 
I  rejoiced  in  the  prefence  of  ftrangers,  when  my 
fon  fhone  in  the  hall.  But,  Ofhan,  he  is  a  beam 
that  is  departed,  and  left  no  ftreak  of  light  be- 
hind. He  is  fallen,  fon  of  Fingal,  in  the  bat- 
tles  of  his  father. Rothmar    the    chief   of 

grafly  Tromlo  heard  that  my  eyes  had  failed  j 
he  heard  that  my  arms  were  fixed  in  the  hall, 
and  the  pride  of  his  foul  arofe.  He  came  to- 
wards Croma ;  my  people  fell  before  him.  I 
took  my  arms  in  the  hall,  but  what  could  fight- 
lefs  Crothar  do  ?  My  ftcps  were  unequal ;  my 
grief  was  great.  I  wiiTied  for  the  days  that  were 
paft.  Days!  wherein  I  fought;  and  conquered 
in  the  field  of  blood.  My  fon  returned  from  the 
chace;  the  fair-liaired  Fovar-gormo  "*.  He  had 
not  lifted  his  fword  in  battle,  for  his  arm  was 
young.  But  the  foul  of  the  youth  was  great; 
the  fire  of  valour  burnt  in  his  eyes.  He  faw  the 
difordered  ilcps  of  his  father,  and  his  figh  arofe, 

•  Faobhar  gorm,  the  blue  point  efJJeel. 

King 


A       POEM.  549 

King  of  Croma,  he  faid,  is  it  becaufe  thou  haft 
no  fon  ;  is  it  for  the  weaknefs  of  Fovar-gorma*s 
arm  that  thy  fighs  arife?  1  begin,  my  father, 
to  feel  the  ftrength  of  my  arm ;  I  have  drawn 
the  fword  of  my  youth ;  and  I  have  bent  the 
bow.  Let  me  meet  this  Rothmar,  with  the 
youths  of  Croma :  let  me  me«t  him,  O  my  fa- 
ther ;  for  I  feel  my  burning  foul. 

And  thou  fhalt  meet  him,  I  faid,  fon  of  the  . 
fightlefs  Crothar  !  Bat  let  others  advance  before 
thee,  that  I  may  hear  the  tread  of  <thy  feet  at 
thy  return ;  for  my  eyes  behold  thee  not,  fair- 
haired  Fovar-gormo  ! He  went,  he  met  the 

foe ;  he  fell.  The  foe  advances  towards  Croma. 
He  who  flew  my  fon  is  near,  with  all  his  pointed 
fpears. 

'  It  is  not  time  to  fill  the  Ihell,  I  replied,  and 
took  my  fpear.  My  people  faw  the  fire  of  my 
eyes,  and  they  rofe  around.  All  night  we  firode 
along  the  heath.  Gray  morning  rofe  in  the  eaft. 
A  green  narrow  vale  appeared  before  us  j-  nor 
did  it  want  its  blue  ftream.  The  dark  hoft  of 
Rothmar  are  on  its  banks,  with  all  their  glitter- 
ing arms.  We  fought  along  the  vale  j  they  fled  ; 
Rothmar  funk  beneath  my  fword.  Day  had 
not  defcended  in  the  weft  when  I  brought  his 
arms  to  Crothar.  I'lie  aged  hero  felt  them  with 
liis  hands  j  and  joy  brightened  in  his  foul. 

The 


^50  C     R     O     M     A: 

The  people  gather  to  th«  hall ;  the  found  of 
the  Ihells  is  heard.  Ten  harps  are  ftriing  ;  five 
bards  advance,  and  ling,  by  turns  *,  the  praife 

of 

•  Thofe  extempore  compofitions  were"in  great  repute  among 
fucceeding  bards.  The  pieces  extant  of  that  kind  fhew  more  of 
the  good  ear,  than  of  the  poetical  genius  of  their  authors.  The 
tranflator  has  only  met  with  one  poem  of  this  fort,  which  he 
thinks  worthy  of  being  prefer ved.  It  is  a  thoufand  years  later 
than  Offian,  but  the  authors  feem  to  have  obferved  his  n>anner, 
and  adopted  fome  of  his  expreflions.  The  ftory-  of  it  is  this. 
Five  bards,  pafling  the  night  in  the  houfe  of  a  chief,  who  was  a 
poet  himfelf,  went  feverally  to  make  their  obfervations  on,  and 
returned  with  an  extempore  defcription  of,  night.  The  night 
happened  to  be  one  in  Oftober,  as  appears  from  the  poem;  and 
in  the  north  of  Scotland,  it  has  all  that  variety  which  the  bards 
afcribe  to  it,  in  their  defcriptions. 

First  Bard. 

"VT IGHT  is  dull  and  dark.  The  clouds  reft  on  the  hills.  Ncf 
•^^  ftar  with  green  trembling  beam  ;  no  moon  looks  from  tlie 
flty.  I  hear  the  blaft  in  the  wood  j  but  I  hear  it  diftant  far< 
The  flream  of  the  valley  murmurs ;  but  its  murmur  is  fullen  and 
fad.  From  the  tree  at  the  grave  of  the  dead  the  long-howling 
owl  is  heard.  I  fee  a  dim  form  on  the  plain  ! — It  is  a  ghoft  !— 
it  fades — it  flies.  Some  funeral  fliall  pafs  this  way :  the  meteor 
marks  the  path. 

The  dillant  dog  is  howling  from  the  hut  of  the  hill.  The 
(lag  lies  on  the  mountain  mofs :  the  hind^s  at  his  fide.  She 
hears  the  wind  in  his  branchy  herns.     She  ftarts,  but  lies  again. 

The  roe  is  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock  ;  the  heath-cocks  head  is 
beneath  his  wing.  No  beart,  no  bird  is  abroad,  but  the  ov/1 
and  the  howling  fox.  She  on  a  leaflefs  tree  :  he  in  a  cloud  on 
the  hilL 

Dark,  panting,  trembling,  fad  the  traveller  has  loft  his  way. 

Through  Ihrubs,  through  thorns,  he  goes,  along  the  gurgling 

6  ri«. 


A      P    O    E    M.  351 

of  Offian ;  they  poured  forth  their  burning 
fouls,  and  the  harp  anfwered  to  their  voice. 
The  joy  of  Croma  was  great :  for  peace  re- 
turned to  the  land.    The  night  came  on  with 

iilence, 

rill.  He  fears  the  rock  and  the  fen.  He  fears  the  ghoft  of 
night.  The  old  tree  groans  to  the  blaft ;  the  falling  branch  re- 
founds.  The  wind  drives  the  withered  burs,  clung  together, 
along  the  grafs.  It  is  the  light  tread  of  a  ghoft ! — He  trembles 
amidft  the  night. 

Dark,  dulky,  howling  is  night,  cloudy,  windy,  and  full  of 
ghofts!  The  dead  are  abroad!  my  friends,  receive  me  from 
the  night. 

Second  Bard. 

The  wind  is  up.  The  fhower  defcends.  The  fpirit  of  the 
mountain  fhrieks.  Woods  fall  from  high.  Windows  flap.  The 
growing  river  roars.  The  traveller  attempts  the  ford.  Hark 
that  fliriek !  he  dies  : — The  ftorm  drives  the  horfe  from  the  hill, 
the  goat,  the  lowing  cow.  They  tremble  as  drives  the  fhower, 
befide  the  mouldering  bank. 

The  hunter  ftarts  from  fleep,  in  his  lonel"  hut ;  he  wakes  the 
fire  decayed.  His  wet  dogs  fmokc  around  him.  He  fills  the 
chinks  with  heath.  Loud  roar  two  mountain  fireams  which 
meet  befide  his  booth. 

Sad  on  the  fide  of  a  hill  the  wandering  Ihepherd  fits.  The 
tree  rcfounds  above  him.  The  flream  roars  down  the  rock.  He 
waitb  for  the  rifing  moon  to  guide  him  to  his  home. 

Ghofts  ride  on  the  ftorm  to-night.  Sweet  is  their  voice  be- 
tween the  fqualls  of  wind.     Their  fongs  are  of  other  worlds. 

The  rain  is  paft.  The  dry  wind  blows.  Streams  roar,,  and 
windows  flap.  Cold  drops  fall  from  the  roof.  I  fee  the  ftarry 
flcy.  But  the  fliower  gathers  again.  The  weft  is  gloomy  and 
dark.  Night  is  ftormy  and  difmal ;  receive  me,  my  friends, 
from  night. 

Third 


352  C      R      O      M      A: 

filence,  and  the  morning  returned  with  joy; 
No  foe  came  in  darknefs,  with  his  glittering 
fpear.  The  joy  of  Croma  was  great ;  for  the 
gloomy  Rothmar  was  fallen. 

I  RAISED 

Third  Bard. 

The  wind  ftill  founds  between  the  hills :  and  whiftles  through 
the  grafs  of  the  rock.  The  firs  fall  from  their  place-  The  turfy 
hut  is  torn.  The  clouds,  divided,  fly  over  the  Iky,  and  fhew  the 
burning  ftars.  The  meteor,  token  of  death  !  flies  fparkling 
through  the  gloom.  It  refts  on  the  hill.  I  fee  the  withered 
fern,  the  dark-browed  rock,  the  fallen  oak.  Who  is  that  in  his 
flirowd  beneath  the  tree,  by  the  ftream  ? 

The  waves  dark-tumble  on  the  lake,  and  lafh  its  rocky  fides. 
The  boat  is  brimful  in  the  cove ;  the  oars  on  the  rocking  tide. 
A  maid  fits  fad  befide  the  rock,  and  eyes  the  rolling  flream.  Her 
lover  promifed  to  come.  She  faw  his  boat,  when  yet  it  was 
light,  on  the  lake.  Is  this  his  broken  boat  on  the  fhore  ?  Are 
thefe  his  groans  on  the  wind  ? 

Hark!  the  hail  rattles  around.  The  flaky  fnow  defcends. 
The  tops  of  the  hills  are  white.  The  flormy  winds  abate.  Va- 
rious is  the  night  and  cold;  receive  me,  my  friends,  from 
night. 

Fourth  Bard. 

Night  is  calm  and  fair ;  blue,  flarry,  fettled  is  night.     The 
winds,  with  the  clouds,  are  gone.     They  fink  behind  the  hill. 
The  moon  is  up  on  the  mountain.    Trees  glitter  :  flreams  fhine 
on  the  rock.     Bright  rolls  the  fettled  lake  ;  bright  the  ftream  of 
the  vale. 

I  fee  the  trees  overturned;  the  fhocks  of  corn  on  the  plain. 
The  wakeful  hind  rebuilds  the  fhocks,  and  whiftles  on  the  dif- 
tant  field. 

Calm,  fettled,  fair  is  night! — Who  comes  from  the  place  of 
the  dead  ?  That  form  with  the  robe  of  fnow;  white  arms  and 
dark-brown  hair !  It  is  the  daughter  of  the  chief  of  the  people; 

fhe 


A      t»    O    E    M.  353 

I  RAISED  my  voice  for  Fovar-gormo,  when 
they  laid  the  chief  in  earth.  .  The  aged  Crothar 
was   there,    but   his  figh  was  not  heard.     He 

fearched 

flie  that  lately  fell !  Come,  let  us  view  thee,  O  maid  !  thou  that 
h^ft  been  the  delight  of  heroes !  The  blaft  drives  the  phantom 
away ;  white,  without  form,  it  afcends  the  hill. 

The  breezes  drive  the  blue  mift,  flowly  over  the  narrow  vale. 
It  rifes  on  the  hill,  and  joins  its  head  to  heaven. — Night  is  fet- 
tled, calm,  blue,  ftarry,  bright  with  the  moon.  Receive  me 
not,  my  friends,  for  lovely  is  the  night.  ^ 

Fifth  Bard. 

Night  is  calm,  but  dreary.  The  moon  is  in  a  cloud  in  the 
weft.  Slow  moves  that  pale  beam  along  the  fhaded  hill.  The 
diflant  wave  is  heard.  The  torrent  murmurs  on  the  rock.  The 
cock  is  heard  from  the  booth.  More  than  half  the  night  ispaft. 
The  houfe-wife,  groping  in  the  gloom,  rekindles  the  fettled  fire. 
The  hunter  thinks  that  day  approaches,  and  calls  his  bounding 
dogs.  He  afcends  the  hill  aqd  whiltles  on  his  way,  A  blall  re- 
moves the  cloud.  He  fees  the  ftarry  plough  of  the  north. 
Much  of  the  night  is  to  pafs.     He  nods  by  the  mofly  rock. 

Hark  !  the  whirlwind  is  in  the  wood  !  A  low  murmur  in  the 
vale  !  It  is  the  mighty  army  of  the  dead  returning  from  the  air. 

The  moon  refts  behind  the  hill.  The  beam  is  ftill  on  that 
lofty  rock.  Long  are  the  fliadows  of  the  trees.  Now  it  is  dark 
over  all.  Night  is  dreary,  filent,  and  dark  J  receive  me,  my 
friends,  from  night. 

The  Chief, 

Let  clouds  reft  on  the  hills :  fpirits  fly  and  travellers  fear.  Le^ 
the  winds  of  the  woods  arife,  the  founding  ftorms  dcfcend. 
Roar  ftrcams  and  windows  flap,  and  green  winged  meteors  fly  ; 
rife  the  pale  moon  from  behind  her  hills,  or  indofe  her  head  ir\ 

.^  a  cloudb  i 


J54  C  •  K.      O     M      A: 

fearched  for  the  wound  of  his  fon,  and  found  It 
in  his  breaft.  Joy  rofe  in  the  face  of  the  aged, 
Jle  came  and  fppke  to  Qffian. 

King  of  fpears !  he  faid,  my  fon  has  not 
fallen  without  his  fame.  The  young  warrior 
did  not  fly  ;  but  met  death,  as  he  went  forward 
•in  his  flrength.  Happy  are  they  who  die  in 
youth,  wheii  their  renown  is  heard !  The  feeble 
will  not  behold  them  in  the  hall ;  or  fmile  at 
their  trembling  hands.  Their  memory  Ihall  be 
honoured  in  the  fongj  the  young  tear  of  the 
virgin  falls.  But  the  aged  wither  away,  by  de-r 
grees,  and  the  fame  of  their  youth  begins  to  be 
forgot,     They  fall  \n  fecret  j  the  figh  of  theijj 

clouds  ;  night  is  alike  to  me,  blue,  ftormy,  or  gloomy  the  fky. 
Night  flies  before  the  beam,  when  it  is  poured  on  the  hill.  The 
young  day  returns  from  his  cloud?,  but  we  return  no  more. 

VN'here  are  our  fhiefs  of  old?  Where  our  ki^igs  of  mighty 
jiame  ?  The  fields  of  their  battles  arc  filent.  Scarce  their  mofTy 
tombs  remain.  We  fhall  alfo  be  forgot.  This  lofty  houfe  fhall 
fall.  Our  fons  fhall  not  behold  the  ruins  in  grafs.  They  {haU 
^Ik  of  the  aged,  "  Where  flood  the  walls  of  our  fathers  ?" 

Raife  the  fong,  and  flrike  the  harp  ;  fend  round  the  fhells  of 
joy.  Sufpend  a  hundred  tapers  on  high.  Youths  and  maids  be-: 
gin  the  dance.  Let  fome  gray  bard  be  near  me  to  tell  the  deed^ 
of  other  times;  of  kings  renowned  in  our  land,  of  chiefs  we  be- 
hold no  more.  Thus  let  the  night  pafs  until  morning  fhall  ap- 
pear in  our  halls.  Then  let  the  bow  be  at  hand,  the  dogs,  the 
youths  of  the  chace.  We  fhall  afcerid  the  hilj  with  day;  an(J 
awake  ihe  dgef, 


A      POEM.  355 

•fon  Is  not  heard.  Joy  is  around  their  tomb  j 
and  the  ^one  of  their  ifame  is  placed  wljthout  a 
tear.  'liappy  are  they  who  die  in  youth/  "wherr 
their  renown  is  around  them  ! 


Aa>  BERRA- 


C   356  3 


BERRATHON 


A      P    O    E    M*. 


BEN  P  thy  blue  courfe,  O  ftream,  round 
the  parrow  plain  of  Lutha-f,  Let  the 
green  woods  ha:pig  over  it  from  their  mountains ; 
and  the  fun  look  on  it  at  noon.     The  thiftle  i^ 

there 

*  This  poem  is  reputed  to  have  been  compofed  by  Offian,  a 
Jittle  time  before  his  death  ;  and  confequently  it  is  known  in 
tradition  by  no  other  name  than  Ojfian's  laji  hymn.  The  tranf- 
lator  has  taken  the  liberty  to  call  it  Berrathon,  from  the  epifode 
concerning  the  re-eftablifhment  of  Larthmor  king  of  thatifland, 
after  he  had  been  dethroned  by  his  own  fon  Uthal.  Fingal  in 
his  voyage  to  Lochlin  [Fing.  B.  III.]  whither  he  had  been  in- 
vited by  Stamo  the  father  of  Agandecca,  fo  often  pientioned  in 
Oflian's  f  oems,  touched  at  Berrathon,  an  ifland  of  Scandinavia, 
where  he  vvas  kindly  entertained  by  Larthmor  the  petty  king  of 
the  place^  who  was  a  vaffal  of  the  fupreme  kings  of  Lochlin. 
The  hofpitality  of  Larthmor  gained  him  Fingal'?  friendftiip,, 
which  that  hero  manifefted,  after  the  imprifonment  of  Larthmor 
by  his  own  fon,  by  fending  Offian  and  Tofcar,  the  father  of 
Malvina  fo  often  mentioned,  to  refcue  Larthmor,  and  to  puniili 
the  unnatural  behaviour  of  Uthal.  Uthal  was  handfome  to  a 
proverb,  and  confequently  much  admired  by  the  ladies.  Nina- 
tkoma  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Torthoma,  a  neighbouring 
prince,  fell  in  love  and  fled  with  him.  He  proved  unconflant ; 
for  anothtr  lady,  vvhoie  name  is  not  mentioned,  gaining  his  af- 
feiSlons,  he  confined  Nina-thoma  to  a  defart  ifland  near  the  coaft 

-f 


A     P  a  E  Mi  i^f 

there  on  its  rocki  and  fhakes  its  beard  to  the 
wind.  The  flower  hangs  its  heavy  head,  waving^ 
at  times,  to  the  gale.  Why  doft  thou  awake 
mej  O  gale,  it  feems  to  fay,  I  am  covered  with 
the  drops  of  heaven  ?  The  time  of  my  fading  is 
near,  and  the  blaft  that  ihall  fcatter  my  leaves* 
To-morrow  fhall  the  traveller  come,  he  that  favr 
jne  in  niy  beauty  Ihall  come;  his  eyes  will 
fearch  the  field,  but  they  will  not  find  me  ? — 
So  Ihall  they  fearch  in  vain,  for  the  voice  of 

of  Berrathon.  She  was  relieved  by  Ofliari,  who,  in  company 
with  Tofcar,  landing  on  Berrathon,  defeated  the  forces  of 
Uthal,  and  killed  him  in  a  fingle  combat.  Nina-thoma,  who(e 
loveiiot  all  the  bad  behaviour  of  Uthal  could  erafe,  hearing  of 
his  death,  died  of  grief.  In  the  mean  time  Larthmor  is  reftored^ 
ajid  Offian  and  Tofcar  returned  in  triumph  to  f  ingal. 

The  prefent  poem  Opens  with  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  Mal- 
vina  the  daughter  of  Tofcar,  and  clofes  with  prefages  of  the 
poet's  death.  It  is  almoft  altogether  in  a  lyric  meafure,  and  ha* 
that  melancholy  air  which  diftinguifhes  the  remains  of  the  worki 
of  Offian.  If  ever  he  compofed  any  thing  of  a  merry  turil  it  is 
long  fmce  loft.  The  ferious  and  melancholy  make  the  mod  lafl> 
ing  impreffions  on  the  human  mind,  and  bid  faireft  for  being 
tranfmitted  from  generation  to  generation  by  tfaditidn.  Nor  ii 
it  probable  that  Offian  dealt  much  in  chearful  compofition.  Me- 
lancholy is  fo  much  the  companion  of  a  great  genius,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  feparate  the  idea  of  levity  from  chearfulnefs,  which  is 
fometimes  the  mark  of  an  amiable  difpofiiion,  but  never  the  chai 
raiSlcriltic  of  elevated  parts. 

f  hatha, /ni'i/f  /ireaf/t.  It  is  Impoffible,  at  this  diflance  of 
time,  to  afcertain  where  the  fcene  here  dcfcribed  lies.  Tradition 
is  filent  on  that  head,  and  there. is  nothing  in  the  poeifl  from 
f^hich  a  conjedure can  be  drawn. 

A  a  3  Cona, 


3^$  B  ERR  AT  HON:. 

Cona,  after  it  has  foiled  in  the  field.  The  htin- 
ter  Ihall  come  forth  in  the  morning,  and  the 
voice  of  my  harp  fhall  not  be  heard.  •  "  Where 
"  is  the  fon  of  car-borne  Fingal?"  The  tear  will 
be  on  his  oheek. 

Then  come  thou,  O  Malvina  *,  with  all  thy 
mufic,  come  ;  lay  Oflian  in  the  plain  of  Lutha :' 
let  his  tomb  rife  in  the  lovely  field. — Malvina  ! 
where  art  thou,  with  thy  fongs :  with  the  foft 
found  of  thy  fteps? — Son  f  of  Alpin  art  thou- 
near  ?  where  is  the  daughter  of  Tofcar  ? 

I  PASSED,  O  fon  of  Fin  gal,  by  Tar-lutha's 
mofly  walls.  The  fmoke  of  the  hall  was  ceafed : 
filence  was  among  the  trees  of  the  hill.  The 
voice  of  the  chace  was  over,  I  faw  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  bow.  I  afked  about  Malvina,  but 
they  anfwered  not.  They  turned  their  faces 
away :  thin  darknefs  covered  their  beauty- 
Thcy  were  like  ftars,  on  a  rainy  hill,  by  night, 
each  looking  faintly  through  her  mift. 

Pleasant  X  be  thy  reft,  O  lovely  beam! 
foon  haft  thou  fet  on  our  hills !  The  fteps  of  thy 

•  Mal-mhina,  yi/t  or  lovely  brow.  Mh  in  the  Galic  language 
has  the  fame  found  with  ni  in  Englifh. 

t  Tradition  has  not  handed  down  the  name  of  this  fon  of  Al- 
j^'^'  His  father  was  one  of  Fingal's  principal  bards,  and  he  ap- 
pears himfelf  to  have  had  a  poetical  genius. 

X  Offian  fpeaks.  He  calls  Malvina  a  beam  of  light,  and  con- 
tinues the  metaphor  throughout  the  paragraph, 

%  departure 


departure  were  flately,  like  the  moon  on  thef 
blue,  trembling  wave.  But  thou  haft  left  us  in 
darknefs,  firft  of  the  maids  of  Lutha !  We  lit,  at 
the  rock,  and  there  is  no  voice ;  no  light  but 
the  nieteor  of  fire !  Soon  haft  thou  fet,  Malvinaj 
daughter  of  generous  Tofcar ! 

But  thdu  rifeft  like  the  beam  of  the  eaft^ 
among  the  fpirits  of  thy  friends,  where  they  fit 
in  their  ftomiy  halls,  the  chambers  of  the  ihun' 
det:  '^  A  cloud  hovers  over  Cona:  its  blud 
curling  fides  are  high.  The  winds  are  beneath 
it,  v^hh  their  Wings ;  within  it  is  the  dwelling  * 
of  Fingal.  There  the  hero  fits  in  darknefs ;  his* 
airy  fpear  is  in  his  hand.  His  fhield  half  covered 
with  clouds,  is  like  the  darkened  moon ;  when 
one  half  ftill  remains  in  the  wave,  and  the  othex* 
looks  fickly  on  the  field. 

Hiis  friends  fit  around  the  king,  on  mift ;  afid 
hear  the  fongs  of  Ullin  :  he  ftrikes  the  half- 
view  lefs  harp  J  and  raifes  the  feeble  voice.  The 
leiTer  heroes,  with  a  thoufand  meteors,  light  thd 

airy  hall.     Malvina  rifes,  in  the  midft  ;  a  bluftl 

i 
•  The  defcription  of  this  ideal  palace  of  Finoal  is  very  poeti- 
cal, and  agreeable  to  the  notions  of  thofe  times,  concerning 
the  flate  of  the  deceafed,  who  were  fuppofed  to  purfue,  after 
death,  the  plcafores  and  employments  of  their  former  life.  The' 
ijtuation  of  Cflian's  heroes,  m  their  feparate  (late,  if  not  entirely 
happy,  is  more  agreeable,  than  the  notions  of  the  ancieni 
Greeks  concemiug  their  departed  heroes.  See  Horn.  Odyff.  1.  1 1 . 

Aa4  a 


36o  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N: 

is  on  her  cheek.  She  beholds  the  unknown 
faces  of  her  fathers,  and  turns  afide  hef  humid 
eyes. 

Art  thou  come  fo  foon,  faid  Fingal,  daugh- 
ter of  generous  Tofcar  ?  Sadnefs  dwells  in  the 
halls  of  Lutha.  My  aged  fon  *  is  fad.  I  hear 
the  breeze  of  Cona,  that  was  wont  to  lift  thy 
heavy  locks.  It  comes  to  the  hall,  but  thou  art 
not  there ;  its  voice  is  mournful  among  the 
arms  of  thy  fathers.  Go  with  thy  ruftling  wing, 
O  breeze !  and  figh  on  Malvina's  tomb.  It 
rifes  yonder  beneath  the  rock/  at  the  blue 
ilream  of  Lutha.  The  maids  •f'  are  departed 
to  their  place  j  and  thou  alone,  O  breeze, 
mourneft  there. 

But  who  comes  from  the  dufky  weft,  fup- 
pojrted  on  a  cloud  ?  A  fmile  is  on  his  gray,  wa- 
try  face  ;  hiS  locks  of  mift  fly  on  the  wind  :  he 
bends  forward  on  his  airy  fpear  :  it  is  thy  fa- 
ther, Malvina!  Why  fhineft  thou,  fo  foon,  on 
our  clojLids,  he  fays,  O  lovely  light  of  Lutha  I 
-—But,  thou  wert  fad,  my  daughter,  for  thy 
friends,  ,:Were  palTed  away.     The  fons  of  little 

*  Offian ;  who  had  a  great  friendfliip  for  Malvina,  both  on 
account  of  her  love  for  his  fon  Ofcar,  and  her  attention  to  his 
own  poems. 

•f-  That  is,  the  young  virgins  who  fung  the  funeral  elegy  over 
her  tomb. 

meo 


A       P    O    E    M.  ^6i 

men  *  were  in  the  hall ;  and  none  remained  of 
the  heroes,  but  Offian  king  of  fpears. 

And  doft  thou  remember  Offian,  car-borne 
Tofcar  f  fon  of  Conloch  ?  The  battles  of  our 
youth  were  many ;  our  fwords  went  together  to 
the  field.  They  faw  us  coming  like  two  falling 
rocks ;  and  the  fons  of  the  firanger  fled.  There 
come  the  warriors  of  Cona,  they  faid  j  their 
fteps  are  in  the  paths  of  the  vanquifhed. 

Draw  near,  fon  of  Alpin,  to  the  fong  of  the 
aged.  The  a<^ions  of  other  times  are  in  my 
foul  :  my  memory  beams  on  the  days  that  are 
pafl.  On  the  days  of  the  mighty  Tofcar,  when 
our  path  was  in  the  deep.  Draw  near,  fon 
of  Alpin,  to  the  lafl  found  ^  of  the  voice  of 
Cona. 

The  king  of  Morven  commanded,  and  I 
raifed  my  fails  to  the  wind.     Tofcar  chief  of 

•  Offian,  by  way  of  difrefpeft,  calls  thofe,  who  fucceeded  the 
heroes  whofe  aftions  he  celebrates,  ti>e  fim  of  little  men.  Tra- 
dition is  entirely  filent  concerning  what  pafTed  in  the  north,  im« 
mediately  after  the  death  of  Fingtl  and  all  his  heroes  j  bat  It  ap* 
pears  from  that  term  of  ignominy  juft  mentioned,  that  tWac^ 
tions  Qf  their  fucceHbrs  were  not  to  be  compared  to  thoie  of  the 
renowned  Fingalians, 

t  Tofcar  was  the  fon  of  that  Conloch,  who  was  atfo  father  lo 
the  lady,  whofe  unfortunate  death  is  related  in  the  laft  cpifoJc  of 
the  fecond  book  of  Fingal, 

X  Offian  fecms  to  incim  ate  By  this  expreffion,  that  this  poem 
was  the  laft  of  h^s  compoficion  ;  fo  that  there  is  fome  foundation 
ioi  the  traditional  title  of  the  lajl  hjmn  of  OJJiiHt, 

Lutha 


3^*  BEiRATHO^f 

Lutha;  flood  at  my  fide,  as  I  rofe  on  the  dark-*' 
blue  wave.  Our  cdurfe  was  tb  fea-furrounded 
^errathon  *,  the  ilte  of  maiiy  ftorms.  Th^re 
dweh,  with  his  locks  of  age,  the  flafely  ftrength 
of  Larthmor.  Larthmor  who  fpVeld  the  feaft 
of  Hiells  to  Comhal's  mighty  fon,  when  he  Went 
to  Starno's  halls,  in  the  days  of  Agandecca.' 
But  when  the  chief  was  old,  the  pride  of  his  fon 
arofe,  the  pride  of  fair- haired  Uthal,  the  love  of' 
^  thoufand  maids.  He  bound  the  aged  Larth- 
mor, and  dwelt  in  his  founding  halls. 

Long  pined  the  king  in  his  cave,  befide  hi^ 
rolling  fea.  Morning  did  not  come  to  his 
dwelling  ;  nor  the  burning  oak  by  night.  But 
the  wind  of  ocean  Was  there,  and  the  parting 
beam  of  the  moon.  The  red  ftar  looked  on  the 
king,  when  it  trembled  on  the  weftern  wave. 
Snitho  came  to  Sclma*s  hall :  Snitho  companion 
of  Larthmor's  youth.  He  told  of  the  king  of 
Berrathon :  the  wrath  of  Fingal  rofe.  Thrice 
l)e  afTumcd  the  fpear,  refolved  to  ftretch  his 
hand  to  Uthal.    But  the  memory  t*  of  his  ac-« 

•  Barrathon,  a  promontory  in  the  midft  of  nvaves.  The  poet 
gives  it  the  epithet  of  fea-furrounded,  to  preyent  its  being  takea 
for  a  peninfula  in  the  literal  fenfe. 

f  The  meaning  of  the  poet  is,  that  Fingal  remembered  hij 
own  great  aftions,  and  confequently  would  not  fully  them  by  en- 
gaging in  a  petty  war  againft  Uthal,  who  was  ie  far  his  inferior 
in  valour  and  power. 

'  tion^ 


A       POEM.  $^3 

tlons  rofe  before  the  king,  and  he  fent  his 
fon  and  Tofcar.  Our  joy  was  great  on  the  roll- 
ing feaj  and  we  often  half  unfheathed  out 
fwords  *.  For  never  before  had  we  fought  alone, 
in  the  battles  of  the  fpear.  Night  came  down 
on  the  ocean ;  the  winds  departed  on  their  wings- 
Cold  and  pale  is  the  moon.  The  red  ftars  lift* 
their  heads.  Our  courfe  is  flow  along  the  coafi 
of  Berrathon  j  the  white  waves  tumble  on  the 
rocks. 

What  voice  is  that,  faid  Tofcar,  which 
comes  between  the  founds  of  the  waves  ?  It  is 
foft  but  mournful,  like  the  voice  of  departed 
bards.  But  I  behold  the  maid  •f,  Ihe  fits  on  the 
rock  alone.  Her  head  bends  on  her  arm  of 
fnow  :  her  dark  hair  is  in  the  wind.  Hear,  fon 
of  Fingal,  her  fong,  it  is  fmooth  as  the  gliding 
waters  of  Lavath.— -We  came  to  the  filent  bayj. 
and  heard  the  maid  of  night. 

*  The  hnpatience  of  young  warriors,  going  «n  their  firft  ejf- 
pfedition,  is  well  marked  by  their  half-drawing  their  fwords. 
The  modcfty  of  OiTian,  in  his  narration  of  a  ftory  which  doei 
him  fo  much  honoar,  is  remarkable ;  and  his  humanity  to  Nina- 
thoma  would  grace  a  hero  of  our  own  polifhed  age.  Though 
Offian  paflcs  over  his  own  aftions  in  filence,  or  flightly  men- 
tions them  ;  tradition  has  done  ample  jullice  to  his  martial  fame, 
and  perhaps  has  exaggerated  the  actions  of  the  poet  beyond  thcr 
bounds  of  credibility. 

f  Nina-thoma  the  daugher  of  Torthoma,  who  had  been  con- 
fined to  a  defart  ifland  by  her  lover  Uihal, 

How 


364  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  K  : 

How  long  will  ye  roll  around  me,  blue-tttm- 
bling  waters  of  ocean  ?  My  dwelling  was  not 
always  in  caves,  nor  beneath  the  whiftling  tree* 
The  feaft  was  fpread  in  Torthoma's  hall;  niy 
father  delighted  in  my  voice.  The  youths  be- 
held me  in  the  fteps  of  my  lovelinefs,  and  they 
blelTed  the  dark-haired  Nina-thoma.  It  was 
then  thou  didft  come,  O  Uthal !  like  the  fun  of 
heaven.  The  fouls  of  the  virgins  are  thine,  fon 
of  generous  Larthmor !  But  why  doft  thou 
leave  me  alone  in  the  midft  of  roaring  waters. 
Was  my  foul  dark  with  thy  death  ?  Did  my 
white  hand  lift  the  fword  ?  Why  then  haft  thou 
left  me  alone,  king  of  high  Finthormo !  * 

The  tear  ftarted  from  my  eye,  when  I  heard 
the  voice  of  the  maid.  I  ftood  before  her  in 
my  arms,  and  fpoke  the  words  of  peace. 
Lovely  dweller  of  the  cave,  what  figh  is  in  that 
breaft  ?  Shall  Offian  lift  his  fword  in  thy  pre- 
fence,  the  deftru<5\ion  of  thy  foes? — Daughter  of 
Torthoma,  rife,  I  have  hearH  the  words  of  thy 
grief.  The  race  of  Morven  are  around  thee, 
who  never  injured  the  weak.  Come  to  our  dark- 
bofomed  fhip,  thou  brighter  than  that  fetting 
moon.     Our  courfe  is  to  the  rocky  Berrathon, 

•  Finthormo,  the  palace  of  Uthal.  The  names  in  this  epiibdi 
*re  not  of  a  Celtic  original;  which  makes  it  probable  that  Offian 
founds  his  poem  on  a  Hue  ilory. 


A      P    O    15    M,  '  2% 

to  t^e  echoing  walls  of  Finthormo.- She  caqie 

in  her  beauty,  (he  came  with  all  her  lovely  fteps. 
Silent  joy  brightened  in  her  face,  as  when  the 
Ihadows  fly  from  the  field  of  fpring ;  the  blue- 
^ream  is  rolling  In  brightnefs,  and  the  green 
|)ulli  bends  over  its  courfe. 

The  morning  rofe  with  its  beams.  We  came 
to  Rothma's  bay.  A  boar  rufhed  from  the 
wood ;  my  fpear  pierced  his  fide.  I  rejoiced 
over  the  blood  *,  andforefaw  my  growing  fame. 

But  now  the  found  of  Uthal's  train  came 

from  the  high  Finthormo ;  they  fpread  over 
the  heath  to  the  chace  of  the  boar.  Himfelf 
comes  flowly  on,  in  the  pride  of  his  ftrength. 
He  lifts  two  pointed  fpears,  On  his  fide  is  the 
hero's  fword.  Three  youths  carry  his  polilhed 
bows :  the  bounding  of  five  dogs  is  before  him. 
His  vy^a^riors  move  on,  at  a  diftancc,  admiring 
the  fteps  of  the  King-  Stately  was  the  fian  of 
Larthmor  !  but  his  foul  was  dark.  Dark  as  the 
troubled  face  of  the  moon,  when  it  foretels  the 
florms. 

We  rofc  on  the  heath  before  the  king;  he 
ftopt  in  the  midft  of  his  courfe.     His  warriors 

*  Offinn  thought  that  his  killing  the  boar,  on  his  firft  landing 
in  Berrathon,  was  a  good  omen  of  his  tiuure  luccefs  in  that 
ifland.  The  prefent  highlniulers  look,  with  a  degree  of  fuper- 
ftition,  upon  the  fuccefs  of  their  firll  a^flion,  after  they  have  en. 
ffaged  in  any  defpcrate  undcrt;ii<.i!ig. 

gathered 


'366  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N : 

gathered  around,  and  a  gray-haired  bard  ad- 
vanced. Whence  are  the  fons  of  the  ftrangers  ? 
begun  the  bard.  The  children  of  the  unhappy 
come  to  Berrathon ;  to  the  fword  of  car-bornb 
Uthal.  He  fpreads  no  feaft  in  his  liall :  the  blood 
of  ftrangers  is  on  his  ftreams.  If  from  Selma*^ 
walls  ye  come,  from  the  molTy  walls  of  Fingal, 
chufe  three  youths  to  go  to  your  king  to  tell  of 
the  fall  of  his  people.  Perhaps  the  hero  may 
come  and  pour  his  blood  on  Uthal's  fword  ;  fo 
fhall  the  fame  of  Finthormo  arife,  like  thp 
growing  tree  of  the  vale. 

Never  will  it  rife,  O  bard,  I  faid  in  the 
pride  of  my  wrath.  He  would  fhrink  in  the  pre? 
fence  of  Fingal,  whofe  eyes  are  the  flames  of 
death.  The  fon  of  Comhal  comes,  and  the 
kings  vanilh  in  his  prefence ;  they  are  rolled  to- 
gether, like  mift,  by  the  breath  of  his  rage. 
Shall  three  tell  to  Fingal,  that  his  people  fell  ? 
Yes! — they  may  tell  it,  bard!  but  his  people 
ihall  fall  with  fame. 

I  STOOD  in  the  darknefs  of  my  ftrength  5 
Tofcar  drew  his  fword  at  my  fide.  The  foe 
came  oh  like  a  flream  :  the  mingled  found  of 
death  arofc.  Man  took  man,  lliield  met  fhield  -, 
ftecl  mixed  its  beams  with'  fleel.— Darts  hif$ 
through  air  ;  fpears  ring  on  mails ;  and  f\vord$ 
on  broken  bucklers  bound.     As  the  noifc  of  an 

aged 


*      IP    O    E    MJ  .   I67 

aged  grove  beneath  the  roaring  wind,  when  a 
thoufa'nd  ghofts  break  the  trees  by  night,  fuch 

was  the  din  of  arms. But  Uthal  fell  beneath 

my  fword ;  and  the  fons  of  Berrathon  fled,— It 
was  then  I  fa w  him  in  his  beauty,  and  the  tear 
hung  in  my  eye.  Thou  art  fallen  *,  young 
tree,  I  faid,  with  all  thy  beauty  round  thee. 
Thou  art  fallen  on  thy  plains,  and  the  field  is 
bare.  The  winds  come  from  the  defart,  and 
there  is  no  found  in  thy  leaves !  Lovely  art  thou 
in  death,  fon  of  car-borne  Larthmor. 

NiNA-THOMA  fat  on  the  fhore,  and  heard 
the  found  of  battle.  She  turned  her  red  eyes  on 
Lethmal  the  gra^-haired  bard  of  Selma,  for  he 
had  remained  on  the  coaft,  with  the  daughter  of 
Torthoma.  Son  of  the  times  of  old !  flie  faid,  t 
hear  the  noife  of  death.  Thy  friends  have  met 
with  Uthal  and  the  chief  is  low !  O  tjiat  I  hacj 


*  To  mourn  over  the  fall  of  their  enemies  was  a  praftice  unU 
verfal  among  Offian's  heroes.  This  is  moie  agreeable  to  huma- 
nity, than  the  fliameful  infulting  of  the  dead,  fo  common  in 
Homer,  and  after  him,  fervilely  copied  by  all  his  imitate rs,  the 
humane  Virgil  not  excepted,  who  have  been  more  fuccefsful  iq 
borrowing  the  imperfedlions  of  that  great  poet,  than  in  their 
imitations  of  his  beauues.  Homer,  it  is  probable,  gave  the  man- 
ners of  the  times  in  which  he  wrote,  not  his  own  fentiments  | 
Pflian  alfo  feems  to  keep  to  the  fentimenti  of  his  heroes.  The 
reverence,  which  the  mod  baibarous  highlandcrs  have  ftill  for 
jhe  remains  of  the  deceafed,  feems  to  have  defcended  to  them 
from  their  mo(l  remote  anceftors. 


veinaiaed 


^68  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O'  N  : 

remained  on  the  rock,  inclofed  with  the  tum- 
bling waves!  Then  would  my  foul  be  fad,  but 
his  death  would  not  reach  my  ear.  Art  thou 
fallen  on  thy  heath,  O  fon  of  high  Finthormo  I  • 
thou  didft  leave  me  on  a  rock,  but  my  foul  was 
full  of  thee.  Son  of  high  Finthormo  1  art  thou 
fallen  on  thy  heath  ? 

Ske  rofe  pale  in  her  tears,  and  faw  the  bloody 
fhield  of  Uthal ;  Ihe  faw  it  in  Offian*s  hand ;  her 
i^eps  were  diftra6led  on  the  heath.  She  flew  j 
Ihe  found  him  ;  flie  fell.  Her  foul  came  forth 
in  a  figh.  Her  hair  is  fpread  on  his  face.  My 
burfting  tears  defcend.  A  tomb  arofe  on  the 
unhappy  j  and  my  fong  was  heard. 

Rest,  haplefs  children  of  youth  !  ^it  the 
noife  of  that  mofly  flream.  The  virgins  will  fee 
your  tomb,  at  the  chace,  and  turn  away  their 
weeping  eyes.  Your  fame  will  be  in  the  fong ; 
the  voice  of  the  harp  will  be  heard  in  your 
pralfe.  The  daughters  of  Selma  ihall  hear  hj 
and  your  renown  fhall  be  in  other  lands. — Refl,  • 
children  of  youth,  at  the  noife  of  the  mofTy 
flream. 

Two  days  we  remained  on  the  coafl.  The 
heroes  of  Eerrathon  convened.  We  brought 
Larthmor  to  his  halls  5  the  fcafl  of  fhells  was 
fpread. — I'he  joy  of  the  aged  was  great ;  he 
looked   to   the   arms  of  his  fathers ;  the  arms 

which 


A      P    d    E    M*  369 

whicli  he  left  in  his  hall,  when  the  pxlde  of 
Uthal  arofe.- — —We  were  renowned  before 
Larthmor,  and  he  bleffed  the  chiefs  of  Morven ; 
but  he  knew  not  that  his  fon  was  low,  the 
lately  ftrength  of  Uthal.  They  had  told,  that 
he  had  retired  to  the  woods,  with  the  tears  of 
grief;  they  had  told  it,  but  he  was  filent  in  the 
tomb  of  Rothma's  heath. 

On  the  fourth  day  we  raifed  our  fails  to  the 
roar  of  the  northern  wind.  Larthmor  came  to 
the  coaft,  and  his  bards  raifed  the  fong.  The 
joy  of  the  king  was  great,  he  looked  to  Rothma's 
gloomy  heath ;   he  faw  the  tomb  of  his  fon  ; 

and  the  memory  of  Uthal  rofe. Who  of  my 

heroes,  he  faid,  lies  there:  he  feems  to  have 
been  of  the  kings  of  fpears  ?  Was  he  renowned 
in  my  halls,  before  the  pride  of  Uthal  rofe  ? 

Ye  are  filent,  ye  fons  of  Berrathon,  is  the 
king  of  heroes  low  ? — My  heart  melts  for  thee, 
O  Uthal ;  though  thy  hand  was  againft  thy  fa- 
ther.— -^O  that  I-  had  remained  in  the  cave! 
that  my  fon  had  dwelt  in  Finthormo  ! — «— I 
might  have  heard  the  tread  of  his  feet,  when  he 
went  to  the  chace  of  the  boar. — I  might  have 
heard  his  voice  on  the  blaft  of  my  cave.  Then 
would  my  foul  be  glad  :  but  now  darknefs 
dwells  in  my  halls. 

B  b  Suck- 


^76  B  E  k  R  A  T  tl  O  N : 

Such  were  my  deeds,  fon  of  Alpin,  when  die 
arm  of  my  youth  was  ftrong  j  fuch  were  *  the 
a(^ions  of  Tofcar,  the  car-borne  fon  of  Con- 
loch.  But  Tofcar  is  on  his  flying  cloud  j  and  I 
am  alone  at  Lutha :  my  voice  is  like  the  laft 
found  of  the  wind,  when  it  forfak.es  the  woods. 
But  Ollian  fhall  not  be  long  alone,  he  fees  the 
mift  that  ihall  receive  his  ghoft.  He  beholds 
the  mift  that  ihall  form  his  robe,  when  he  ap- 
pears on  his  hills.  The  fons  of  little  men  fhall 
behold  me,  and  admire  the  ftature  of  the  chiefs 
of  old.  They  fhall  creep  to  their  caves,  and 
look. to  the  iky  with  fear  ;  for  my  fleps  lliall  be 
in  the  clouds,  and  darknefs  lliall  roll  on  my 
fide. 

Lead,  fon  of  Alpin,  lead  the  aged  to  his 
woods.  The  winds  begin  to  rife.  The  dark 
wave  of  the  lake  refounds.  Bends  there  not  a 
tree  from  Mora  with  its  branches  bare?  It  bends, 
fon  of  Alpin,  in  the  ruftling  blaft.  My  harp 
hangs  on   a  blafted  branch.     The  found  of  its 

firings  is   mournful. —Does  the  wind  touch 

thee,  O  harp,  or  is  it  fome  paffing  ghoft  ! 

It  is  the  hand  of  Malvina !  but  bring  me  the 
harp,  fon  of  Alpin  j  another  fong  ihall  rife. 
My  foul  fhall  depart  in  the  founds  my  fathers 

*  Oflian  fpeaks. 

iliali  - 


A      P    6    E    3Vt.  371 

Ihall  hear  It  in  their  airy  hall— Their  dim  faces 
Ihall  hang,  with  joy,  from  their  clouds  j  and 
their  hands  receive  their  fon. 

*  The  aged  oak  bends  over  the  ftream.  It 
fighs  with  all  its  mofs.  The  withered  fern 
whittles   near,    and   mixes,    as  it  waves,    with 

Oilian's  hair. Strike  the  harp  and  raife  the 

fong :  be  near,  with  all  your  wings,  ye  winds. 
Bear  the  mournful  found  away  to  Fingal's  airy 
hall.  Bear  it  to  Fingal's  hall,  that  he  may  hear 
the  voice  of  his  fon ;  the  voice  of  him  that 
praifed  the  mighty.— The  blaft  of  the  north 
opens  thy  gates,  O  king,  and  I  behold  thee  fit- 
ting on  mift,  dimly  gleaming  in  all  thine  arms. 
Thy  form  now  is  not  the  terror  of  the  valiant : 
but  like  a  watery  cloud ;  when  we  fee  the  ftars 
behind  it  with  their  weeping  eycf^.  Thy  fhield  is 
like  the  aged  moon  :  thy  fword  a  vapour  half- 
kindled  with  fire.  Dim  and  feeble  is  the  chief, 
who  travelled  in  brightnefs  before. — 

But  thy  fteps  -f*  are  on  the  winds  of  the  de- 
fart,  and  the  ftorms  darken  in  thy  hand.     Thou 

takeft 

*  Here  begins  the  lyric  piece,  with  which,  tradition  (ays, 
OlTian  concluded  his  poems. — It  is  fet  to  mufic,  and  ftrll  fung  in 
the  north,  with  a  great  deal  of  wild  fimplici;y,  but  little  variety 
of  found. 

t  This  magnificent  defcription  of  the  power  of  Fiugal  over 
the  winds  and  Ilorms,  and  ihc  image  of  his  taking  the  fun,  and 

£  b  3  hiding 


^72  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N: 

takeft  the  fun  in  thy  wrath,  and  hideft  him  in 
thy  clouds.  The  fons  of  little  men  are  afraid  -, 
and  a  thoufand  Ihowers  defcend. — 

But  when  thou  comeft  forth  in  thy  mildnefs  j 
the  gale  of  the  morning  is  near  thy  courfe.  The 
fun  laughs   in  his  blue   fields ;    and  the  gray 

flream  winds  in  its  valley. The  bullies  Ihakc 

their  green  heads  in  the  wind.  The  roes  bound 
towards  the  defart. 

But  there  is  a  murmur  in  the  heath  !  the 
flormy  winds  abate !  I  hear  the  voice  of  FingaL 

Long  has  it  been  abfent  from  mine  ear !- 

Come,  Offian,  come  away,  he  fays :  Fingal  has 
i"eceived  his  fame.  We  paffed  away,  like  flames 
that  had  Ihone  for  a  feafon,  our  departure  was 
in  renown.     Though  the  plains   of  our  battles 

hiding  him  in  the  clouds,  do  not  correfpond  with  the  preceding 
paragraph,  where  he  is  reprefented  as  a  feeble  ghoft,  and  na 
more  the  terror  of  the  valiant;  but  it  agrees  with  the 
notion  of  the  times  concerning  the  fouls  of  the  deceafed,  who,  it 
was  fuppofed,  had  the  command  of  the  winds  andllorms,  but  in 
combat  were  not  a  match  for  valiant  men. 

It  was  the  immoderate  praife  beltowed  by  the  poets  on  their 
departed  friends,  that  gave  the  fiift  hint  to  fuperftition  to  deify 
the  deceafed  heroes ;  and  thofe  new  divinities  owed  all  their  at- 
tributes to  the  fancy  of  the  bard  who  fung  their  elegies. 

We  do  not  find,  that  the  praifes  of  Fingal  had  this  eiFed  upon 
his  countrymen  ;  but  that  is  to  be  imputed  to  the  idea  they  had 
of  power,  v.hich  they  always  conneded  with  bodily  ilrength  and 
perfonal  valour,  both  which  were  diflblved  by  death. 

arc 


A.      P    O    E    M.  373 

are  dark  and  filentj  our  fame  Is  in  the  four  gray 
ftones.  The  voice  of  Offian  has  been  heard  ; 
and  the  harp  was  ftrung  in  Sehna.  —  Come 
Offian,  come  away,  he  fays,  and  fly  with  thy 
fathers  on  clouds. 

And  come  1  will,  thou  king  of  men!  the 
life  of  Offian  fails.  I  begin  to  vanilh  on  Cona; 
and  my  fteps  are  not  feen  in  Selma.  Befide  the 
ftone  of  Mora  I  fhall  fall  afleep.  The  winds 
whiftling  in  my  grey  hair  fhall  not  waken  me. 

Depart  on  thy  wings,  O  wind  :  thou  canft 

not  difturb  the  reft  of  the  bard.  The  night  is 
long,  but  his  eyes  are  heavy ;  depart,  thou  ruli- 
ling  blaft. 

But  why  art  thou  fad,  fon  of  Fingal  ?  Why 
grows  the  cloud  of  thy  foul?  The  chiefs  of  other 
times  are  departed ;  they  have  gone  without 
their  fame.  The  fons  of  future  years  fhall  pafs 
away  ;  and  another  race  arife.  The  people  are 
like  the  waves  of  ocean :  like  the  leaves  *  of 

woody 

•  The  fame  thought  may  be  found  almoft  in  the  fame  words, 
in  Homer,  yi.  4^. 

Oi>)  in^tjyO^tiit  ymnt  rmri^i  xocl  uv^fuv. 

Tri7:iQ6u(rx  ^veh  tcccgi  ^  tiily'iyvirai  u(yi. 

Mr.  Pope  falls  fhort  of  his  original ;  in  particukr  he  has 
omitted  altogether  the  beautiful  image  of  the  wind  ftrewing  the 
withered  leayes  on  the  ground. 

•  B  b  3  Like 


374  B  E  R  R  A  T  H  O  N: 

woody  Morven,  they  pafs  away  in  the  ruftling 
blaft,  and  other  leaves  lift  their  green  heads. — 

Did  thy  beauty  laft,  O  Ryno  *  ?  Stood  the 
ftrength   of  car-borne   Ofcar  ?    Fingal  himfelf 

paffed 

Like  leaves  on  trees  the  race  of  men  are  found. 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground ; 
'  Another  race  the  following  fpring  fupplies  ; 

They  fall  fucceffive,  and  fucceflive  rife. 

Pope. 

•  Ryno,  the  fon  of  Fingal,  who  was  killed  in  Ireland,  in  the 
war  againft  Swaran,  [Fing.  b.  5.]  was  remarkable  for  the  beauty 
of  his  perfon,  his  fwiftnefs  and  great  exploits.  Minvane,  the 
daughter  of  Morni,  and  fifter  to  Gaul  fo  often  mentioned  in 
Oflian's  compofitions,  was  in  love  with  Ryno. — Her  lamentation 
over  her  lover  is  introduced  as  an  epifode  in  one  of  Oflian's 
great  poems.  The  lamentation  is  the  only  part  of  the  poem 
now  extant,  and  as  it  has  fome  poetical  merit,  I  have  fubjoined 
it  to  this  note.  The  poet  reprefents  Minvane  as  feeing,  from 
one  of  the  rocks  of  Morven,  the  fleet  of  Fingal  returning  from 
Ireland. 

Q  H  E  blufliing  fad,    from  Morven's  rocks,   bends  over  the 
darkly- rolling  fea.     She  faw  the  youths  in  all  their  arms. — 
Where,  Ryno,  where  art  thou  ? 

Our  dark  looks  told  that  he  was  low ! — That  pale  the  hero 
fjew  on  clouds !  That  in  the  grafs  of  Morven's  hills,  his  feeble 
voice  was  heard  in  wind  ! 

And  is  the  fon  of  Fingal  fallen,  on  Ullin's  mofly  plains  ? 
Strong  was  the  arm  that  conquered  him  ! — Ah  me!  I  am  alone. 

Alone  I  will  not  be,  ye  winds  !  that  lift  my  dark-brown  hair. 
My  lighs  will  not  long  mix  with  your  ftream ;  for  I  muft  fleep 
with  Ryno. 

I  fee  thee  not  with  beauty's  fteps  returning  from  the  chace.— 
The  night  is  round  Minvane's  love ;  and  filence  dwells  with  Ryno. 

9  Where 


A       P    O    E    M.  375 

pafled  away  ;  and  the  halls  of  his  fathers  forgot 

his  fteps. Andihalt  thou  remain,  aged  bard! 

when  the  mighty  have  failed  ?  •  But  my  fame 
fhall  remain,  and  grow  like  the  oak  of  Morvenj 
which  lifts  its  broad  head  to  the  ftorm,  and  re- 
joices in  the  courfe  of  the  wind. 

Where  are  thy  dogs,  and  where  thy  bow  ?  Thy  Shield  that 
was  fo  ftrong  ?  Thy  fword  like  heaven's  defcending  fire  ?  The 
bloody  fpear  of  Ryno. 

I  fee  them  mixed  in  thy  fhip ;  I  fee  them  ftained  with  blood* 
—No  arms  are  in  thy  narrow  hall,  O  darkly-dwelling  Ryno  I 

When  will  the  morning  come,  and  fay,  arife,  thou  king  of 
Ipears !  arife,  the  hunters  are  abroad.  The  hinds  are  near  thee, 
Ryno ! 

Away,  thou  fair-haired  morning,  away  ?  the  flumbering  king^ 
hears  thee  not !  The  hinds  bound  over  his  narrow  tomb  j  for 
death  dwells  round  young  Ryno. 

But  I  will  tread  foftly,  my  king !  and  Heal  to  the  bed  of  thy 
rcpofe.     Minvane  will  lie  in  filence,  near  her  flumbering  Ryno. 

The  maids  fhall  feek  me ;  but  they  fhall  not  find  me  :  they 
fhall  follow  my  departure  with  fongs.  But  I  will  not  hear  you, 
O  maids :  I  fleep  with  fair-haired  Ryno. 


FINIS, 


Advertifement 

SINCE  the  printing  of  the  fecond  Edition,  Do£tor 
Warner  publifhed  a  pamphlet,  entitled.  Remarks  on 
the  Htjiory  of  Fingal  and  other  Poems  of  OJJian.  The 
Doftor,  it  appears,  is  compiling  a  general  hiftory  of 
Ireland,  and  is  of  opinion  that  Oflian,  and  the  heroes  he 
celebrates,  were  natives  of  that  country.  As  he  has  advanc- 
ed no  argument  to  fupport  fo  Angular  an  opinion,  I  fhould 
have  pafled  over  his  pamphlet  in  filenco,  had  he  not  too 
precipitately  accufed  me  of  a  falfe  quotation  from  O'Fla- 
herty.  I  had  faid,  in  a  note,  on  one  of  the  lefler  poems 
of  Oflian,  that  Fingal  is  celebrated  by  the  Irijh  hijiorians^for 
his  ivifdom  in  making  laws,  his  poetical  genius ^  and  his  fort^ 
knowledge  of  events,  and  that  0^ Flaherty  gees  fo  far  as  to  fay, 
that  FingaPs  laws  were  extant,  when  he  {(y Flaherty)  wrote 
his  Ogygia.  The  Dodlor  denies  that  there  is  any  fudi 
thing  in  O'Flaherty  j  and  modeftly  quotes  a  paflage  from 
the  fame  Author,  which  he  fuppofes,  I  have  mifrepre- 
fented.  I  (hall  here  give  the  whole  paragraph,  and  the 
world  will  judge  whether  the  Do£lor  has  not  been  too 
hafty  in  his  aflertions.  Finnius  ex  Mornid  filia  Thaddai, 
filius  Cuballi,  jurifprudentia,  fuper  qua  fcripta  ejus  hoc- 
tenus  extant,  car  minibus  pairiis,  ^  ut  quldam  ferunt  prs- 
phetiis  celeberrimusy  qui  ob  egregiafua,  y  militia  fua^  foci" 
nor  a  ub  err  imam  vulgo,  ilf  poet  is  comminijcendi  tnateriem  r*- 
linquens,  a  nulla  estate  reticehitur,       Ogyg.  p.  338. 

As  the  Do(5tor  founds  his  claim  of  Oifian  and  his  heroes, 
en  the  authority  of  fome  obfcure  paflages  in  Keating  and 

0  Flaherty,  what  he  fays  on  the  fubjed  ftands  felf-confutcd. 

1  hefc  writers  neither  meet  with,  nor  deferve  credit.  Credu- 
lous and  partial,  they  have  altogether  difgraced  the  an- 
tiquities they  meant  to  eilablifh.  Without  producing  re- 
cords, or  even  following  the  ancient  traditions  of  their 
ccuntry,  they  formed  an  ideal  fyftem  of  antiquity,  from 

legends 


ADVERTISEMENT. 

legends  of  modern  invention.  Sir  James  Ware,  who  was 
indefatigable  in  his  refearches,  after  the  monuments  of  the 
Irifli  hiftory,  and  had  collefted  all  the  real,  and  pretendedly 
ancient  manufcripts,  concerning  the  antiquity  of  his  nation, 
rejedts  as  mere  fidlion  and  romance,  all  that  is  faid  con- 
cerning the  times  before  Saint  Patrick,  and  the  reign  of 
Leogaire,  in  the  fifth  century.  I  fhall  tranfcribe  the  paf- 
fage,  for  the  benefit  of  thofe  who  are  compiling  the  hiftory 
©f  Ireland  from  the  earlteji  ages,  and  at  the  fame  time, 
caution  them,  not  to  look  upon  the  antiquities  of  that  coun- 
try, through  the  falfe  mediums  of  Keating  and  O'Flaherty, 
Per  exiguam  fuperejfe  notitiam  rerum  in  Hy hernia  gejiarum 
ante  exortam  ibi  evangelii  auroram  liquids  conJlat»  Neque 
me  latet  a  viris  nonnullis  doBis  plaraque  qua  de  antiquoribus 
illis  temporibus  ante  S.  Patricii  in  Hyberniam  adventum  tra~ 
duntur,  tanquam  fgmenta  ejfe  explofa.  Notandum  quidem  de- 
fcripiionei  fere  omnium  qucs  de  illis  temporibus  (antiquioribus 
dico)  extant,  opera   eJfe  pojieriorum  feculorum, 

Waraeus  de  antiq.  Praf.  p.  i. 

I  muft  obferve  that  the  Do£^or's  claiming  Oflian's 
poems  (p.  8  )  in  forma  pauperis,  not  only  invalidates  his 
caufe,  but  is  alfo  no  very  genteel  compliment  to  the  Irifti 
nation.  I  am  far  from  being  of  his  opinion,  that  that  na- 
tion can  produce  no  monument  of  genius,  but  the  works  of 
Ofiian,  (hould  thefe  be  tacitly  ceded  to  them.  On  the 
contrary,  I  am  convinced  that  Ireland  has  produced  men 
of  great  and  diftinguifhed  abilities,  which,  notwithftanding 
the  Do6^or's  prefent  opinion,  1  hope,  will  appear  from  his 
own  hiftory,  even  though  he,  confefl'edly,  does  not  under- 
Hand  the  language,  or  ancient  records  of  that  country. 


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